The Girl and Her Professor
by Nymmie
Summary: The Sequel to Mrs. Snape's Diary. Meta is in her 7th Year at Hogwarts and her strange friendship with Snape grows even stronger... Answers some questions posed in the first story. COMPLETE!
1. Aunt Agnes's Plans

"Meta! META!" A shrill, high pitched voice came drifting up the stairs of my Aunt Agnes's large, newly purchased, palatial home.  
  
I scrambled to pull on my muggle outfit, dark jeans, a tee shirt, and old converse sneakers.  
  
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" I yelled as I grabbed my bag, took a quick, discouraging look in the mirror, and bolted down the stairs. It's not that I was an absolute troll or anything, I was just self-concious. I did not like mirrors because whenever I looked in them I saw a pale skinned, dark eyed girl, who looked too young to be seventeen.  
  
"It is rude to keep your _guests _waiting, Meta. How many times have I told you?" Aunt Agnes said as I reached the bottom of the staircase where Franco and his family were waiting. Aunt Agnes was surveying them with a sharp eye, as if they had some highly communicable disease that she and her precious furniture were going to catch. Aunt Agnes was always of the mindset that Muggles were second best, and she would normally not approve of me socializing with them, but it was nearly August and she was thoroughly sick of me.  
  
"Mr. and Mrs. Polley, _thank you_ for letting me stay in your home," I said gratefully, perhaps a little too gratefully because Aunt Agnes glared at me and passive aggressively shoved everyone out the door.  
  
"Thank heavens!" I said to Franco as we got in his parents car. "That woman has been driving me insane!"  
  
"What have you been doing with your dear old auntie?" Franco asked as we drove out of the suburbs and toward London.  
  
"Oh, well, when she can't get any of her new 'friends' to come over, I usually have the pleasure of listening to Auntie brag about her stupid, bloody party that she's planning. 'Everyone is going to be there, Meta, so don't humiliate me like you usually do,' " I said, impersonating Agnes's creaking, high, voice.  
  
"She's making you go to her look-at-me-I'm-rich-now party?"  
  
"Yes," I said cringing, "And she's making me wear dress robes."  
  
"You? You never dress up!" Exclaimed Franco.  
  
"I know. I'd prefer muggle clothes any day. It's nothing against robes, I just feel more comfortable in pants."  
  
"Me too," said Franco.  
  
"It's good to be around sane people again," I said smiling.  
  
"Hey, thanks!" Franco said. "So when _is_ your Aunt's party, exactly?"  
  
"Two weeks from tomorrow. I've got the dreaded date etched in my brain. August 13th. I really don't know who she thinks she's kidding, trying to get in with the socially elite and pureblooded families. Sure, the Cockerhams are relatively high on the 'clean' blood scale, but we don't exactly have the best reputation."  
  
"Yeah, but look at the Malfoys," Franco replied. "Everybody knows about the horrible stuff they've done, but they still manage to buy support."  
  
"Yes, but they've been very wealthy for a very long time. My father made all of his money on his own, you have to give him credit for that I suppose, and now Aunt Agnes has inherited it all. I'd say that's what some people call 'new money'. I just don't want her to get in with the wrong crowd and put me in danger as well."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, more than half of the people she's invited to her party are muggle-haters and pure-blood fanatics. Dark arts and all that. It's really scary actually, how she seems to be getting worse and worse each day."  
  
"Well, I guess I'm out of an invitation to your Auntie's muggle hating fancy dress ball."  
  
"You're the lucky one, Franco."  
  
I spend a blissful week and a half at Franco's family's flat in London. We did normal muggle things like sightseeing, shopping, and going movies.   
  
"I know it's not very exciting here," Franco said to me one day.  
  
"Are you kidding, Franco? I'm having a blast!"  
  
His face could have lit up the room for the entire rest of the evening. Too quickly, however, it came time to leave. I would be returning home, if you could call it that, to prepare myself for the inevitably boring party on August the thirteenth.  
  
"Bye," said Franco as his parents dropped me off. "Good luck with the party."  
  
"Thanks," I said grimly. "I'm going to need it. If you don't hear from me within two days afterwards, you'll know that I've either poisoned myself to get out of the party or Aunt Agnes has locked me in a trunk for embarrassing her in front of her friends," I said, only half joking.  
  
"I'll remember that," Franco said and got into his parents car. "See you at school!"  
  
I waved good-bye to them as they drove away and slowly trudged up the large front steps of my Aunt's house, not at all looking forward to going back inside.  
  
The moment I opened the door I almost jumped back from surprise. The usually deadly quiet house was a hurricane of noise and people everywhere coming and going.  
  
"Oh, Fanny will take that, Miss," said Fanny the house elf, appearing out of nowhere to take my bag.  
  
"What's all this, Fanny?" I asked as two wizards carrying a large vase full of black roses walked past.  
  
"Well, Mistress has been busy preparing for the ball, Miss. People are everywhere, almost stepping on Fanny!"  
  
"But the party isn't until the thirteenth, that's three days from now."  
  
"Well, Mistress says there is much to do," Fanny said in her funny little voice as she struggled up the staircase with the large bag.  
  
"Fanny, I'll take that," I said, reaching to take the bag from her.  
  
"No! No, Fanny wants to," she said, finally reaching my room and setting my bag down on the floor.  
  
"FANNY!"  
  
"Oh, no," Fanny said, her ears drooping at the sound of Aunt Agnes's voice. She ran out of the room and I was left to unpack.  
  
I sighed as I heaved my large brown bag onto my bed. _I hate it here_, I thought to myself. _And I don't really have a good reason to. Everything is beautiful and new and I'm mostly left alone, but I'm still so unhappy.   
  
  
Maybe you are unhappy _because _you are alone. _Said a little voice. _You miss him, admit it.  
  
  
_"Shut up!" I said out loud.  
  
"Talking to yourself, girl?" Aunt Agnes was standing in the doorway with a nasty look on her face. "I always knew you were deranged."  
  
"What is it?" I snapped.  
  
"Tut, tut. Watch your tone, Meta. It's not at all flattering. I came up here to tell you that you should be going to Diagon Alley for some dress robes."  
  
"Now? But I've only just got back!"  
  
"Oh, well, that's too bad isn't it? Maybe you should have bought them when you were in London already."  
  
"But we were busy. And anyway, Franco's parents are muggles and they're not completely comfortable with--"  
  
"Please," Agnes interrupted. "Refrain from all this muggle-loving talk from now on, Meta. And get something in a nice colour, no bright yellow or hot pink or I'll send you right back. Now, go," she commanded, pushing a sackful of money into my hand and sweeping out the door.  
  
"Stupid old bat," I mumbled, grabbing a handful of Floo powder with my free hand. "Diagon Alley!" I yelled through the flames.  



	2. Red Dress Robes

I arrived in Diagon Alley and dusted off my robes. I sighed and headed down the narrow cobblestone street toward Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions. I disliked shopping and avoided it at all costs, especially clothes shopping. Sales people made me nervous. Whenever I didn't want their help they were always there, asking, "Can I help you?" every five minutes. If I actually _did_ need help they were no where to be found. I pushed open the door to Madam Malkin's and the tiny bells fastened to the door tinkled loudly.  
  
"Oh, no," I said. I had wanted to make a stealthy entrance so that I could look around a bit without being noticed. The large shop looked rather empty as well, which meant that a sales person would be accosting me any moment now...   
  
"Can I help you?"  
  
I jumped and turned around. A short, squat woman with gray hair pulled back in a loose gray bun was smiling up at me. _Well, she looks nice enough_, I thought.  
  
"Er, yes. I'm looking for some new dress robes."  
  
"Oh! Splendid!" The little woman said, clasping her hands together. "Come back here and we'll get your measurements, dear."  
  
She led me back to the second part of the shop. It was a large room with black velvet curtained fitting rooms lining the sides. In the middle were a few step stools and a table with needles, thread, and rolls of measuring tape on it. The back wall was a massive shelving unit with every color and type of fabric imagineable. On the front wall next to the large open doorway were a few ancient mirrors.  
  
"Come here and stand on this stool dear, and we'll get you measured."  
  
Madam Malkin picked up a quill and some parchment, then tapped a roll of measuring tape with her wand. It flew up into the air and began to measure me in not only the usual places, but rather unusual ones as well, such as the distance from my left pinky finger to the top of my eyelid.  
  
"Well, then, that's done with," Madam Malkin said and tapped the roll of measuring tape again to make it stop. It shuddered and fell to the floor. "Now, what would you like?"  
  
"Er, well, I want something sort of flowy," I said cautiously. "and loose, but not too loose. Maybe fitted at the waist," I said, and Madam Malkin nodded, taking some notes on her piece of parchment. "I want the sleeves long, and maybe belled out at the bottoms, but not too much, I don't want to look like I've got enormous hands."  
  
"Perfect!" Madam Malkin said. "How about something like this?" She showed me a sketch that she had quickly drawn on the parchment.  
  
"Yes, that's exactly what I was thinking of," I said, in awe.  
  
"And, what color, dear?"  
  
"Well, what color do you think would be best?"  
  
"Hmm," Madam Malkin said as she walked around me in circles with her hand on the side of her face. "Red!" She exclaimed after nearly two minutes.  
  
"Red?"  
  
"Yes, bright red, but not too bright, dear," she added, seeing the apprehensive look on my face. "Like this," she said, pulling some vibrant red satin material off the back wall. "It's very rich, but exciting as well. I think it will look splendid against your lovely dark hair, dear."  
  
"Thank you, it's beautiful."  
  
Madam Malkin smiled. "I'll get this made up for you. It should be ready in an hour."  
  
"Thank you," I said again and headed out toward the bustling street.  
  
After killing some time at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor and Flourish and Blotts I went back to Madam Malkin's.  
  
"Oh, your dress robes are ready dear," said Madam Malkin excitedly. "and they are quite lovely, if I do say so myself. Come try them on."  
  
I stepped into one of the curtained rooms and held the robes up. They really were quite pretty, I just hoped that Aunt Agnes wouldn't send me back for getting such a "provocative" color.  
  
"Oh! You look pretty as a picture!" Madam Malkin said as I came out of the dressing room. "Here, have a look in the mirror."  
  
I looked into the large mirror on the front wall and was suprised to see that I did look, well, almost _pretty_.  
  
"The color is beautiful on you, dear, and look how mature it makes you look! Oh, excuse me," she said as the loud tinkling of the door bells signaled another customer.  
  
I did a few turns in my new dress robes in front of the mirror. _Vain as a peacock_, said the little voice.   
  
"Oh, shut up, I deserve to vain for once," I muttered.  
  
"Just a moment," said Madam Malkin to the customer. "I've got your robes back here, Severus."  
  
_Severus? I must be hearing things, or it is a different Severus_, I thought to myself.   
  
_How many people named Severus can there be?_ Said that pesky little voice.  
  
Madam Malkin came into the back room, humming to herself as she took a brown package off of one of the shelves.  
  
"I really think you should try them on, Severus. Just to be sure that they fit," she called back to him.  
  
"That's really not necessary," said a familiar voice from the other room. Professor Snape walked into the room. "They always fit, Madam Malkin," he said, then stopped. He looked at me with an unreadable expression on his face, as his expressions often were.  
  
"Miss Cockerham," he finally said. "Good afternoon."  
  
"Good afternoon, Professor," I said quietly.  
  
"Oh, this young lady is a student of yours, is she Severus? Doesn't she look splendid in that red?"   
  
"Er," Snape mumbled, clearly uncomfortable with the question. "Yes," he said.  
  
"Thank you," I mumbled, looking down at my feet.  
  
"I should be going," Snape said quickly.  
  
"Alright, alright," Madam Malkin said as the left the room. "If you insist on not trying them on..." I heard her say.  
  
I ran into the dressing room and quickly changed back into my normal robes. I could feel my face getting hot. The bells tinkled again. It was safe to come out.  
  
"I'll wrap this up for you," Madam Malkin said as I handed her the robes.   
  
I paid and thanked her profusely, then practically ran out of the shop. I was very anxious to get home. Professor Snape, of all people, had seen me when I was at my most vulnerable, in dress robes. As if I wouldn't have been embarrassed enough to see him after all of the events of last year and the incident with the handkerchief, and now he had seen me in vixen-red robes. What would he think of me? 


	3. Cream Puffs

Chapter 3  
  
I snuck back into the house so that Aunt Agnes could not demand that I show her my new robes. I really didn't want to go back to Diagon Alley to get new ones, and anyway, though I wouldn't admit it, I actually liked my new dress robes. They made me look and feel very mature, even elegant, for once.  
  
When I was back in the safety of my room again I unwrapped the robes and laid them out on my bed. Without really realizing what I was doing so, I reached my hand under the mattress of my bed, the only hiding place I had, and grasped for the handkerchief. I felt the my hand slide against the smooth silk and I pulled the handkerchief out and held it up to my cheek.  
  
"What am I doing?" I suddenly jerked myself back to reality and threw the handkerchief onto the bed. It fluttered for a moment before landing softly on top of the red robes. The S.S. initials seemed to be laughing up at me and mocking me for being so silly.  
  
_You'll get over it, _I told myself. _After this year you'll never see him again, and then you won't have to worry about acting rashly.  
  
_  
"Out of sight, out of mind," I said as I returned the handkerchief to its hiding place. "And anyway, you don't like him! You don't!"  
  
_Yes you do,_ said the voice.  
  
The days leading up to Agnes's soiree crept along more slowly than I ever thought possible. With each passing day Aunt Agnes grew nastier, her tongue became sharper, her temper shorter, until the morning of August the thirteenth when she had reached the peak of her stress level and her head was ready to implode.  
  
I was down in the large, stainless steel kitchen amongst the bustling house elves, most of whom were hired for the day from a House-Elf Rental Agency, minding my own business and helping myself to some toast with strawberry jam. Fanny and a few other elves were ironing some white lacy table cloths at the large wooden table, so I sat down to join them.  
  
"I can help you with that if you'd like, Fanny, I like ironing."  
  
"No! No, Miss Meta. Miss needs to enjoy her toast and then get ready for the party."  
  
"Oh, yes, thanks for reminding me. I'm so excited that I fear I will wet myself," I said sarcastically and took a bite of toast.  
  
"FANNY!" A loud, screeching voice gave me a start and I dropped the piece of toast I was holding face-down onto the pristine tablecloth.  
  
"Oops."  
  
"OOPS? OOPS?" Aunt Agnes was livid.  
  
"I'm sorry, you scared me," I said meekly. Aunt Agnes's eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her head and a vein was bulging out of her temple.  
  
"GET OUT! GO STRAIGHT TO YOUR ROOM BEFORE YOU CAUSE ANY MORE TROUBLE AND STAY THERE UNTIL I SAY YOU CAN COME DOWN!"  
  
"It's a simple spell, here," I said, raising up my wand.  
  
"NO!!!" She screeched. "NO, GET OUT--NOW!"  
  
"Okay, okay." I got up out of the chair and peeled my piece of toast off of the table cloth, then went up to my room. "Don't get your knickers in a twist," I mumbled as soon as I was out of earshot.  
  
So, the rest of my day was spent confined to my room, with Aunt Agnes sending Fanny up every few hours to make sure I was getting ready.  
  
"How can I even begin to get ready, Fanny? It's ten-thirty and the party doesn't start until eight!"  
  
"Fanny doesn't know, she's only the messenger, Miss."  
  
Being bored stiff and confined to a single room for eight hours does things to your brain. That day I painted my toes, painted my nails, gave myself a facial, did my hair in four different styles and did my makeup twice, taking it off after each time.  
  
Around siz, Aunt Agnes let me come down to the kitchen for a bite to eat, watching me closely so I wouldn't gum up any of her sparkling cleen glasses or plates with my fingerprints.  
  
"But won't there be food at the party?" I asked, looking at the plate of bread and a hunk of cheap cheese.  
  
"Yes," she said impatiently. "But that is for the _guests, _and besides, you don't wnat to look like a pig, do you?"  
  
"Oink, oink," I muttered to her back as she walked out of the kitchen.  
  
"I expect you to be completely ready in ONE HOUR!" She yelled back.  
  
After my _satisfying _meal, returned to my cell, er, room, to change into my dress robes and make a final decision on my hair and makeup, not that I really cared.   
  
"Oh, if Franco could only see me now," I said, looking in the mirror. I decided to wear my hair down, in loose waves, and my makeup simple, a bit of black eyeliner, some blush, and a hint of gloss. It took me quite some time to achieve the desired hair style. I kept making the spell too strong and turning my hair into a mass of corkscrew curls.   
  
"Are you ready?" Agnes yelled down the hall.  
  
"Yes!" I lied, trying the spell again for the twentieth time.  
  
"You better be!"  
  
"Oh, shut up," I said and grimaced at my head, which now resembled a frizzy mop. "_Follicula!_" I said returning it to normal. "Okay, one more try. _Follicula!_" I concentrated on loose waves and sent just a hint of magic out of my wand. A stream of gold magic flowed out of the wand and onto my head. The gold flowed into my chin-length hair, creating soft waves. "Hmm, not too shabby, I suppose."  
  
I dashed down the stairs and almost fell on my face when my feet hit the floor.  
  
"Be more careful, it's just been waxed," Aunt Agnes said, and then did a double take. "Your robes!"  
  
"What's wrong with them?" I asked, looking down at myself.  
  
"You look like a tart!"  
  
"I do not! It's only a bright color!"  
  
"Only a bright color? _Only a bright color_? What will people think?"  
  
"Don't worry, they probably won't even notice me."  
  
"Let's hope not," she snapped. "Now, I expect you to be on your best behavior. Don't speak unless you are spoken to, and if you have to say something, talk about the weather or your schoolwork, don't say any of those stupid, silly things you usually say, do you hear me?"  
  
"Loud and clear."  
  
The guests began to arrive at eight. Aunt Agnes immediately went into "cheery hostess" mode. Her constant smiling was nauseating, and she mostly introduced me as "Howard's girl" with a scoff in her voice each time she said it. After about an hour of false smiles and small talk, I had had enough. I knicked a few cream puffs off of the large table that had been set up in the ballroom and snuck off into the hall to escape all of the boring talk and tinkling of champagne glasses. I sighed and slumped onto a bench to eat my cream puffs.  
  
"Hiding?" Said a familiar voice.  
  
"Oh, I didn't know anyone was here--" I said, slightly suprised. I looked up and saw a man in dark green robes leaning against the wall and holding a glass of champagne.  
  
"Professor Snape?" I said, realizing who it was. "Er, would you like a cream puff?" Well, at least I was being hospitable.  
  
Snape looked slightly amused and stepped forward to take the cream puff from my outstretched hand.  
  
"Thank you."   
  
"I didn't know you were coming to my Aunt's party, Professor," I said, trying to break the awkward silence.  
  
"I've known your Aunt for quite some time, actually," he said.  
  
"Oh, that's unfortunate," I said, before I could stop myself. _Oh, bugger_.  
  
To my astonishment, Snape didn't look offended, but instead let out a short laugh. "That's why I'm out here. I'm not particularily fond of that sort of thing," he said, motioning towards the ballroom and taking a bite of his cream puff.  
  
"Me neither," I said in agreement, and also took a bite of my cream puff.  
  
We must have looked quite odd, two social outcasts escaping the hustle and bustle of the party, one young, one older, both sitting together in a comfortable silence, eating cream puffs.  
  
  



	4. Career Help

Chapter 4  
  
  
After the cream puffs were gone, I decided it was best to _try_ to make conversation.  
  
_Imagine, me trying to chit-chat with Snape!_ I thought. _He isn't exactly the "how's the weather type", but he has shown me an exceptional amount of kindness, so don't hold grudges,_ I told myself.  
  
"So..." I said, clearing my throat. "How do you know my Aunt, Professor?"  
  
Snape was leaning against the wall again, champagne still in his hand, and looking quite calm and collected.  
  
"We went to school togehter. We were both in Slytherin. She was in her seventh year when I was in my first, and she was a bit of a mentor to me for a while."  
  
"Oh," I was slightly taken aback by Professor Snape's openness and civility. I half expected him to say, "It's none of your business, you nosy twit," but he didn't. In fact, he was having a pleasant conversation with me. "Aunt Agnes never told me that," I said. _She never tells you anything, idiot._ "I would have thought that she was much older than you," I rambled. "She _looks_ quite a bit older. I suppose she's just prematurely aged from all the--" I stopped. I was going to say, immorality, deception, lying, nagging, and just plain evilness, but I shut up. Snape probably liked her and even looked at her like a big sister.  
  
"All the what?" He asked, a small twitch went across his lips. I almost thought that it was the beginning of a smile.  
  
"Oh... the... well," I stuttered. "I don't want to offend you. It's no secret that I don't like her, but you do, so--"  
  
"I felt," he interrupted. "_obligated_ to come here. I received an invitation, so I came. I had every intention of leaving within a matter of moments before you came in. And I don't mind if you are honest about what you think of your Aunt." He took a sip of his champagne.  
  
I was dumbfounded. Usually Snape didn't want me to be honest with him. Normally he would prefer a student to keep their mouth shut and stay out of his hair.  
  
"So...what you're saying is..."  
  
"I knew your aunt a long time ago. Alot of things can change in over twenty years."  
  
I took that to mean, "No, I can't stand the woman." I unconciously let out a sigh of relief.  
  
"Go on," Snape said.  
  
"Well, my aunt is very, manipulative. Yes, that's the word. She sort of bamboozled me out of my Father's money. She disliked him as much as I did, but she kissed up to him for years so that he would leave her everything. I haven't got a single galleon. Nothing. She isn't even really obligated to keep me, she just does because I'm her little charity act or something. I'll be eighteen soon though, and after I graduate from Hogwarts she doesn't want me around. She wants me to find my own income and place to live. I'm just worried that I won't succeed... and I haven't got any one else to go to." I hadn't meant to say that much, but it felt good to get all of those worries off my chest.  
  
"That does sound like Agnes," Snape said grimly with a frown on his face. "You could always speak to Headmaster Dumbledore, I'm sure he could find some housing and put in a good word for you."  
  
"Yes," I said quietly. I was rather disappointed that he had not said, "Oh, you poor, poor, thing. You must come and live with me," but that would be unheard of.  
  
"Or," Snape said, breaking my crazy thoughts of domestic life with him (I was imagining that Snape and I were folding laundry together). "I can help you find a job... I know some people at the Ministry of Magic."  
  
Snape was offering to find _me_ a job!  
  
"The Ministry of Magic? What would I do there?"  
  
"What do you want to do? You could do anything, you're very bright..." He looked uncomfortable again, almost as uncomfortable as he had been at Madam Malkin's.  
  
"Thank you, Professor. That's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."  
  
"It's nothing..." he mumbled.  
  
Just then, Aunt Agnes came out into the hall with a slightly deranged look on her face.  
  
"Oh, crap," I whispered.  
  
"Meta! Why aren't you inside? I can't believe it, I take my eye off of you for two minutes and you run off! I swear, I'll have to put you on a leash!"  
  
Professor Snape made a small sound from his throat to let himself be noticed.  
  
"Oh, Severus," Agnes said, turning to him and putting her "charm" on again.  
  
"I didn't see you there--"  
  
"Obviously."  
  
"I hope my neice hasn't been bothering you."  
  
"Not at all," Snape said. "We've been discussing Miss Cockerham's career plans."  
  
"Her? Career plans?" Agnes scoffed. "Well, that _is_ a new one."  
  
"Actually," Snape said forcefully. Aunt Agnes looked slightly taken aback. "Headmaster Dumbledore believes that your neice is very talented, and that she would do well in almost any job area. I believe that as well," he added. I blushed furiously.  
  
"Well, that's news to me," Aunt Agnes snapped.  
  
"Shouldn't you be getting back to your guests, Aunt Agnes?" I said sweetly, finally daring to speak.  
  
She glared at me, but realised that I was right and turned on a heel back to the ballroom.  
  
"I should be going as well," Professor Snape said abruptly.  
  
"Oh, wait!" I jumped off the bench and walked over to him. I dared to look up into his face. He looked apprehensive and maybe even a little afraid, as if he thought I was going to attack him. "Thank you again, for getting me out of trouble."  
  
Snape simply nodded and then said,  
  
"I'll be seeing you soon, I expect."  
  
"Yes," I replied, and he disapparated with a 'pop'. 


	5. Letters for Snape

Thanks everyone, for the reviews. I understand your concern about the Teacher/Student relationship thingy, and I assure you that I know what I am doing, or actually, the characters know what they are doing, so don't worry. Everything is in good taste.  
  
----  
  
  
Chapter 5  
  
  
  
After the incident at my aunt's party I was severely scolded for nearly the entire week afterward, but since the party had gone well otherwise, the scoldings weren't as bad as they might have been.  
  
Besides, I felt invincible. Snape had given me so many compliments, not the conventional definition of compliment, but compliment nonetheless, that I felt I could take on the world. If Snape thought I was worthy of recognition, not only from Dumbledore, but from himself as well, then that was all that mattered to me. My aunt's harsh words could not cancel that out. I had learned from my mistakes of last year, however, recalling Franco's suspicions, so I kept my outward behavior subdued. Inside I was turning cartwheels. Believe it or not, if it hadn't been for the party, I don't think I would have fared so well the rest of the summer.  
  
"Thank goodness," I sighed as Franco and I entered the Ravenclaw common rooms after the welcoming feast. "I'm so glad to be back here."  
  
"Uh," Franco moaned as he collapsed into a cushy armchair. "I shouldn't have eaten so much."  
  
"Franco, you do this every year. You eat your weight in food the first day back and then you complain the whole rest of the evening until I either knock you out or you vomit it all up again."  
  
"I know. I just can't resist. My mum's food is so… healthy."  
  
"I thought your mum was a good cook when I stayed at your place."  
  
"She was just trying to impress you. She never cooks that way for us. Ugh, I'm going to bed," he attempted to get out of the chair but fell back, exhausted.  
  
"Oh, for heaven's sake," I pulled him out of the chair by his hands and he hobbled off to his dormitory. "Good night, Franco," I called.  
  
"Night," he answered feebly.  
  
  
And so the first few weeks of the term passed by quietly and calmly. Nothing seemed to have changed from last year, which was both comforting and disappointing. I do not know what I was expecting, perhaps it was the childish part of me that hoped Professor Snape would come rescue me from my gloom, riding up on a white horse and whisking me away to a fairytale castle. Whenever I had these thoughts I felt guilty, disgusted, and embarrassed with myself. Snape had never really given me any proof that he felt any sort of affection for me, and besides even if he did, he couldn't act on it. _He's your teacher_, I told myself again and again. _It wouldn't be right for anything to happen, and I don't want anything to happen!_ But always, the little voice of reason told me the truth. I _did_, in fact, like Snape very much, and I began to admit this to myself. Surprisingly, being honest with myself made me more comfortable around him. In class I no longer felt like jelly every time he walked past or examined my cauldron. I was not completely at ease, but at least I stopped holding my breath when I saw him.  
  
"Oh, nuts," I swore as we were leaving the dungeons one Friday afternoon.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"I forgot my notebook in the classroom."  
  
"Don't make me go back there," Franco said with a shudder. It had been a particularly bad lesson for Franco, and Snape had tormented him for ruining his Boar's Blood potion, and spilling nearly an entire bottle of expensive boar's blood. He knew that Franco was my best friend, but probably kept up with punishing him just as severely as before to keep his image in check.   
  
"Alright, go on without me. I'll see you later," I tried sound annoyed that he was deserting me, but really I was grateful. Perhaps I could have a word with Snape, as I hadn't spoken to him since August.  
  
I knocked on the dungeon door but heard no answer.   
  
"Professor?" I pushed the door open slightly and called. No answer again. I opened the door the rest of the way and walked in. Snape was sitting at his desk, hunched over some piece of paper. I couldn't see his face very well because his long hair was hanging in front of it, almost brushing the desk, but I could make out that familiar scowl.  
  
I tried to quietly get my notebook and leave, but just as I was reaching for the notebook under the table, Snape looked up and saw me.  
  
"Miss Cockerham!"  
  
"I'm sorry, Professor!" I froze and gaped at him like a deer in headlights. "I just came back to get my notebook, I knocked but I don't think you heard me…"  
  
"Obviously, I didn't," he snapped. My face fell. He hadn't yelled at me like this since the day he found out about his diary being stolen. _All of the progress I made with him is gone,_ I thought, feeling my throat tighten and the tears coming to my eyes. _And I don't know what I've done._  
  
"Sorry," I choked and snatched the notebook and ran for the door.  
  
"Wait," he got up from his desk quickly and grabbed my arm. I stood there for a moment, frozen, with his hand still clutching my elbow. I slowly turned around to face him and he loosened his surprisingly tight grip. "I was reading a letter," he lifted his other hand, showing me the piece of parchment that he had been clutching in it. I assumed this was an apology, or explanation perhaps, but I didn't understand. "Well, take it," he said impatiently.  
  
"I-I don't think that it's any of my business," I stammered. I was feeling a bit anxious. Snape had an angry gleam in his eyes that I had not seen since that day in his office, and it made me almost afraid. Deep down I knew he would never hurt me, but I couldn't help feeling apprehensive.  
  
"Take it, Meta," he said, more softly this time. "You'll find it interesting, I'm sure."  
  
I didn't understand why Snape was letting me read a personal letter. It was very uncharacteristic of him. I almost wished that the old Snape was back, the Snape who hated me and would have simply screamed at me and told me to get out.  
  
I took the letter, not wanting to try his patience any further. He turned around and began pacing the length of the classroom, looking down at the floor. I sighed and began to read the letter, though it was hard to make out the small, messy handwriting, especially since my hands were shaking.  
  
_Severus Snape,  
  
This may come as a shock to you to be hearing from me after all of these years. You might have even thought I was dead, or wished I was dead, perhaps. But I am not, and there is a reason I am writing to you now, after all of these years. I do not know much about your character, but I hope you are a man who will forgive me for my tardiness. I would like to meet with you, to discuss some important matters. Please respond as soon as you can, giving a time with which you are available to meet with me, and where.  
  
Much thanks,  
  
Harold L. Shue_  
  
Harold Shue. Harold Shue. Where had I heard that name before? I stood there staring at the last line of the letter. Snape had stopped pacing and was looking at me, anticipating my reaction. Then, it dawned on me. Harold Shue was the boy Berthe had written about in her diary. He was the boy she had kissed, the boy she fell in love with, the boy who…   
  
I looked up at Snape. He seemed to want me to be waiting for me to do something or say something, but I didn't know what.  
  
"Harold Shue," I said quietly.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Your father…"  
  
"Yes," he said to me again.  
  
"What are you going to do?" I asked, not really realizing what I was saying. I somehow felt like Snape had let me in to his life for a reason. I felt as if we were peers or colleagues perhaps, trying to solve a riddle or work through a problem.  
  
"I'm not sure."  
  
Snape? Not sure? Snape was sure of everything, all of the time. That was always a constant. He looked at me and I realized that he was, in his own way, asking _me_ for help. I felt overwhelmed.  
  
"What do you think he wants from you?" I asked.  
  
"I don't know," he said slowly and ran his hands through his hair. He suddenly looked exhausted and old.  
  
"I'm not sure if I trust him," I said honestly.  
  
"I'm not either," Snape said walking over to me and taking back the letter. He read through it one more time and ripped it in half.  
  
"I'm sorry. I've been useless," I said. Shame and frustration was rushing over me. Snape had come to me for help! He had given me his confidence, had let me peek into his private life, and I had failed him. I wanted to scream. I was sure that this would set me back with him, and that he would never trust me again.  
  
"You've helped, actually," he replied sitting down in the nearest chair. He looked like he was going to fall asleep right there.  
  
"Maybe I should go." I began to leave but he called me back once again.  
  
"No, sit down," he said pointing to a chair at the table next to his. I immediately obeyed him and sat down, then wondered why. _You act like a dog around him. Sit Meta, sit!_ "I'd… I'd like to talk to someone, and as you're the only one who knows about this, having read my mother's diary and all, you're the only one."  
  
_You're the only one._ Not exactly heart-wrenching sentiments, but coming from Snape, this was almost Shakespeare. For the most part we sat in silence, but once in a while Snape would speak. He was thinking out loud mostly, reasoning through his father's motives. I would make sounds of yes, or no, trying to absorb everything that he was saying. Soon, my eyes began to feel watery and heavy. My legs felt like they were pieces of dead weight. I was sure that even if I wanted to get up and walk back to the common rooms, my legs would have failed me. I was not sure what time it was, or how much time had passed since I had been there, but I didn't care. I just struggled to stay awake and listen to Snape.   
  
It was during one of the breaks in the conversation when I couldn't fight the sandman anymore. I felt my eyes closing and tried to tell them to stop. _Don't fall asleep. You can't fall asleep._ It was no use, they wouldn't listen. _Don't close your eyes!_ They continued to close. It seemed as though my eyes were working on their own accord and my brain could not halt them. _Stop!_ My eyes closed completely and I fell, sound asleep, out of my chair.  
  



	6. Meeting Mr Shue

  
The next thing I knew I was being woken up, abruptly and cruelly, it seemed, from my sweet slumber.  
  
"Miss Cockerham, are you alright?"  
  
"Wha- no. I mean yes," I mumbled with my eyes still tightly shut.  
  
"Open your eyes."  
  
"I can't," I groaned. _Who is this person and why doesn't he just leave me alone?_  
  
"Sit up." I felt someone pull me up to the sitting position and I managed to pry my eyes open partially. The light flooded them and I had to blink repeatedly to adjust.  
  
"Are you sure you're alright? You hit your head on the floor."  
  
My eyes were coming into focus slowly, and I began to make out shapes in the room.  
  
"I'm fine, stop asking me," I replied grumpily.  
  
"Well excuse me, your highness," said the voice.  
  
_Hmm, he sounds familiar, but what is a man doing in the girl's dormitory?_ I thought.   
  
"What are you doing he--" I began, but I managed to open my eyes all the way in mid-sentence and saw Professor Snape's face peering down at me. _Oh, yeah. Letter, Snape's father, fell asleep. I remember now._ "Oh no, I have to go." I tried to get up but my legs felt wobbly and I had to sit down in a chair after a few steps. Another chair was sitting on its side near where I had been lying. _I fell out of that chair,_ I thought stupidly.  
  
"I didn't realize how late it was," Snape said, looking at me strangely as I stared blankly at the overturned chair. He walked over to it and set it upright. I broke my gaze and looked at him.  
  
"I think you should go see Madam Pomfrey about your head."  
  
"It's fine, I've got a hard skull. It doesn't even hurt, see?" I ran my hand down the back of my head and found a rather large lump that did, in fact, hurt. "Ouch."  
  
"Doesn't hurt?" Snape said sarcastically.  
  
"I'm fine. Right now all I want to do is go to sleep."  
  
"That is what I'm worried about." Snape walked over to me and took out his wand. "Lumos," he said and held the tip of the wand in front of my face. He moved it side to side and up and down. My eyes followed the light. "I don't think you've got a concussion."  
  
I sighed. _I told you._  
  
"I'll bring you up to your common room, though."  
  
"That's really not necessary," I protested.  
  
"Miss Cockerham, it is after curfew. Do you really want to be found wandering the halls at night alone and without permission?" He looked down at me forcefully.  
  
"No," I replied meekly.  
  
"Come, then."  
  
He escorted me to the Ravenclaw common room in silence, but when we reached the entrance he said,  
  
"You will, of course, not speak of this to anyone." It was a demand, not a request.  
  
"Of course, I would never tell a soul about your father."  
  
"Not even Polley?" He said, sneering slightly as he said 'Polley'.  
  
"No, not even Franco."  
  
"Good," he said sharply. "Now get some sleep."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
I skirted around a few people in the common room who were still up, doing homework no doubt. I crept up to the dormitory, hastily kicked off my shoes, and crawled into bed fully dressed. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.  
  
  
"Where were you yesterday?"  
  
"I was in the library."  
  
"But you said you would be right back."  
  
"Well, I was coming back, but then I remembered that I hadn't finished my homework for Ancient Runes, so I went up to the library to look some things up. Is that a crime?"  
  
"Are you _sure_ you went to the library?" Franco asked suspiciously.  
  
"Of course," I said firmly putting on my most honest face. "Now stop bothering me about it." I didn't like lying to Franco, but I couldn't tell him anything about what had happened last night. I wasn't even clear about what had happened myself. I hated being the only one who knew about his father. I felt like if I could tell someone it would lighten the load I carried, but I knew I could never tell a soul. "Hogsmeade this weekend," I said, changing the subject.  
  
"Do you want me to stay here with you?" Franco asked graciously, and I felt even guiltier.  
  
"No, that's okay Franco. Go and have fun. Smuggle me back some butterbeer."  
  
"Are you sure?" I nodded. "Okay. It's just that it's so unfair. First, your dad wouldn't let you go, and now your aunt won't."  
  
"Yeah, well, I'll be eighteen soon and it will be 'good riddance' to her!"  
  
  
The next day, nearly everyone in the school left for Hogsmeade after breakfast and I slowly made my way in the opposite direction towards the library. I figured that I would get all of my homework done and have all of Sunday to lay outside in the grass and read while it was still relatively warm. I began to walk up the staircase and saw a man down below out of the corner of my eye. He was looking very closely at a small marble statue. I stopped and watched him from above. He looked around a few times to see if anyone was near, then picked up the statue and attempted to hide it in his overcoat.  
  
"Excuse me," I said, coming down the staircase a few steps. He jumped and looked up. "Who are you?" I asked. As I got closer to him, I could see that he was wearing very tatty brown wizard's robes that looked a few sizes too large, a musty green hat, and dirty scuffed up boots. He looked to be in his mid-fifties, had a terrible five o'clock shadow, squinty blue eyes and a large hooked nose.  
  
"Well, 'ello, little missy!" He said with mock enthusiasm. "I was jus' wondering if you could show me where Professor Snape's office migh' be?" His voice was rough and slightly slurred, and he spoke in an accent between Popular London and Cockney.   
  
_So this is the elusive Harold Shue,_ I thought. _The wonderful, kind, and caring Harold Shue. If only Berthe could see him now._ "Why, of course," I said sweetly. "It's right this way." I led him to the dungeon, watching him out of the corner of my eye as he struggled to make the large, oddly shaped lump sticking out of his stomach look natural.  
  
I knocked on the door to Snape's office and hoped that he was there. I really didn't want this man following me around all morning while I tried to track him down.  
  
"Miss Cockerham," Snape said, looking almost surprised. Then he looked behind me and saw Shue fiddling with the buttons on his coat and his expression immediately turned sour.  
  
"You have a guest, Professor," I said quietly. "He was _looking_ for you."  
  
"Thank you, Miss Cockerham, you may go now."  
  
I have to admit I was quite disappointed that I did not get to stay and watch the spectacle. I turned to leave and Snape gestured for Shue to enter his office.  
  
"Hold on, Miss Cockerham," he said before shutting the door.  
  
"Yes?" _Please, ask me to stay_, I thought.  
  
"Will you kindly return _this_ to its rightful place?" He picked up the statuette that had fallen from Shue's coat pocket when he sat down in the chair.  
  
"Yes, Professor."  
  
"Thank you, Miss Cockerham," he said, and gave me a meaningful look as he shut the door.  



	7. Shue's Desperation

  
Though I desperately wanted to stand outside of Snape's office door and eavesdrop on his and Shue's conversation, I knew I could not. Feeling slightly betrayed, I slowly walked through the corridors out of the dungeons and up to the entrance hall. I replaced the small greek statue of the goddess and was walking slowly up the staircase when I heard Shue's loud, raspy voice drift up to the hall. Once again, I stopped on the staircase and looked down. I saw Shue come out of the corridor followed by a very furious looking Snape.  
  
"Hey, yeh don' have to follow me out, I can find me own way."  
  
"Actually," Snape said coldly, "I _do_ have to follow you out to be certain that you don't attempt to steal anything else."  
  
"Now, wait a minute. I wasn't _stealing_ that little lady over there," he said gesturing toward the statue. "I was jus' taking her for a li'l stroll."  
  
"Get out!" Snape pushed him out of the large front doors and watched for a while to make sure he left. I gingerly stepped down the staircase. Snape closed the doors but kept his back to me.  
  
"I never should have agreed to let him come here."  
  
"Why _did_ he come, Professor?"  
  
He was silent for a moment and I wondered if he heard me. Then he turned around to face me. He looked straight ahead with an emotionless expression on his face.   
  
"Forty years and not so much as a letter... Not once did he try to contact my mother or me. I should have been more cautious. I should have torn up that letter the moment I received it. I should have..." He was speaking very quietly, so quietly that I had to talk a few steps forward to hear him, and even then I was straining to take in his words. Finally, Snape answered my question.  
  
"He came to ask me for money. He lost his job because he is a useless drunk. He comes to me, the son he never wanted, to ask for liquor money." Snape let out a harsh, sarcastic laugh.  
  
"That's terrible," I whispered.  
  
He broke his gaze at the wall and looked at me. He seemed to have forgotten I was there.   
  
"Yes," he said, and without another word he swept down the corridor to the dungeons.  
  
  
As the months passed, Snape became even more cruel and heartless as usual. Not to me, of course. Towards me his attitude was indifferent. I might go so far as to say he didn't even acknowledge my existence. But to the other students he was taking more points and jumping down their throats even more quickly. By November, even I had to admit that he was an absolute nightmare. The thing that worried me was how ill he began to look. Before he was sickly pale and sallow skinned, but everyday he looked worse. The circles under his eyes darkened and his voice grew hoarse and lost it's silkyness. I contemplated speaking with him and voicing my concern, but I was too afraid. I thought that he might snap.  
  
Christmas break came and my Aunt Agnes insisted that I come home for the holidays. She claimed that she wanted me to be home for the holidays, but I knew that she just wanted me home because it made her image look better. She had to make it look like she and I loved each other dearly.  
  
I made plans to meet Franco in Diagon Alley after Christmas, and those plans were my only spark of happiness during the long days in Agnes's cold, sterile house.   
  
I walked toward Flourish and Blotts, where Franco and I had agreed to meet. The winter wind was bitterly cold and a misty rain was falling. I wrapped my scarf more tightly around my neck. _Where is he?_ I stomped my feet to keep warm and looked at my watch. It was half past two, and Franco was fifteen minutes late. _Franco is never late..._ I went inside and searched the entire store, but didn't find him, so I went back outside again. I was beginning to feel annoyed.  
  
"Fine, since he's made me wait, I'll make him wait as well." I walked ahead down the narrow street, looking at the shops and glancing back every once in a while to check for Franco. I was furious by now. It was almost three-thirty, and I was trying to understand why Franco would stand me up like that when I heard a low voice behind me.  
  
"Hello, I know you."  
  
I turned around to see where that voice had come from and saw a greasy, dirty faced man with the same grubby brown overcoat and green hat.   
  
"Shue."  
  
"Tha's me name, don' wear it out," he wheezed. I could smell the alcohol on his breath.  
  
"Why don' you come with me, l'il missy, and you can tell me all about your dear Professor Snape?"  
  
"No, I don't think so," I said, starting to feel nervous. I took a few steps back and almost fell on a loose cobblestone.   
  
"Watch yer step, there missy."   
  
He kept walking toward me, closer and closer. I turned around and started walking very quickly, but he followed me. I turned down a dark, empty alleyway, practically running now. It was very gloomy and overcast, and the rain began to come down more violently. I didn't realize at the time that I had turned down Knockturn Alley.  
  
I looked behind me and didn't see him. Thinking I had lost him, I stopped to catch my breath in front of an old abandoned shop. I was about to go back out the alley the way I had come when I felt a pair of arms grab me. I tried to scream, but a dirty hand covered my mouth.   
  
"Thought yeh could get away that easily, did yeh missy?" 


	8. In the Basement

Chapter 8  
  
  
Shue must have forced some sort of sleeping draught down my throat, because the next clear memory I had was that of a pounding headache and a funny feeling in my stomach which only strong potions leave behind. My brain seemed to wake up long before the rest of my body because my eyes did not seem to want to open. I could hear the muffled sound of someone talking far away, and an odd click-click noise kept repeating over and over. When I finally forced my eyes open I wondered if they weren't still shut. The room was incredibly dark and dingy and smelled like wet socks. There was one tiny, dirty window with a lovely view of the sidewalk. I wanted to get up and try to break it open, but I realized I could not get off of the floor. I was in a full body bind.  
  
"Damn," I muttered. I wriggled around, hoping that Shue's magic was weak, but unfortunately he had managed to put a successful spell on me despite his pathetic appearance. The clicking sound seemed to grow louder and more irritating. _What _is _that noise?_ I rolled onto my side and looked toward the source of the sound. I saw a tiny clock sitting on the shelf. It was twenty after five. _No one has even noticed I'm gone..._  
  
Just then, a thumping noise overpowered the sick clicking of the old clock, and Shue's voice came thundering down the stairs. The door burst open and he grinned at me.   
  
"Oh, so she's awake is she?"  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I said, vainly struggling to move my arms and legs.  
  
"Language, language. No need to get angry, I'm only using my resources."  
  
"I am not your resource!"  
  
"Oh yes, yeh are. You see, I knew that when I saw you at Hogwarts that day that you were special to my little son somehow--"  
  
"He's not your son!" I yelled. I was tired and delirious, and I didn't care if he killed me or not. I only wanted to move my arms... "He's not your son, he never will be, and he won't give you anything, not ever! So let me go or kill me, I don't care. Just let me MOVE!"  
  
Shue, unlike Snape, was not good at hiding his feelings. He looked very surprised and a bit scared, as if he doubted his plan for a moment, but attempted to regain his composure.  
  
"Alright... don't get yer knickers in a twist." He raised his wand and released me from the cords. I bolted to my feet but he pointed his wand at my head. "Don't try anything. You are goin' to sit here and tell me a little story." He forced me into a chair, keeping his wand pointed at me.  
  
"What kind of sick--"  
  
"I mean," he interrupted, "You are going to tell me everything about your precious potions master."  
  
"I don't know anything about him," I lied.   
  
"Oh, sure yeh do, missy. Any weaknesses? Well, besides you, of course."  
  
"What do you mean?"   
  
"I told you before, I could see that you were special to him. A little teacher's pet perhaps? Naughty, naughty," he looked down at me with a nasty look on his face.   
  
_He knows nothing... He knows nothing at all. He's bluffing._   
  
I let out a very convincing laugh and put a triumphant look on my face. "Ha! Your plan is quite flawed, Mr. Shue. You see, Professor Snape cares for nothing and nobody. He has no weaknesses. None."   
  
Shue floundered for a moment and then became very angry.   
  
"We'll see, won't we?" He pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill from his ugly jacket and thrust them at me. "Write your dear Professor a letter. I'll dictate and you copy exactly what I say, no funny business, got it?"  
  
"It won't do any good," I snapped, but my hands were shaking. "Well, haven't you got anything for me to write on?"  
  
"Write on your lap. It will make it look more desperate." Shue looked quite pleased with himself. "Yes, that's perfect. Let's see, 'My Darling Severus,'"  
  
"I'm not writing that!" I yelled, throwing down the quill.  
  
"Miss, I don't think you are in a position to argue! Pick it up," he yelled.  
  
I gritted my teeth and picked up the quill, then held it over the parchment and looked up at Shue's disgusting face.  
  
"Tha's better. Now, 'Dear Professor: I am currently in the posession of one Mr. Harold L. Shue, Esquire--"  
  
"Esquire?" I snorted.  
  
"Shut up and write, you li'l trollop! 'Mr. Shue requests that you send him a reply to this post as soon as possible, or I, your precious, darling, love will meet a very untimely end.' Then sign your name, etcetera, etcetera."  
  
I gulped and scribbled the note, which was very difficult on such a soft surface. _Maybe I shouldn't be making fun of him... maybe Shue really does mean it. Maybe he really is going to kill me_, I thought.  
  
"Let me just check that," he said, ripping the letter from my hands and quickly reading it to make sure that I had written what he requested. "Good, good, but you've forgotten the little x's and o's under your name," he wheezed, obviously thinking that his joke was very funny. "I'll just send this off, and we'll just wait for a reply." He turned to go back out the door, but suddenly remembered that I was loose and stopped. "Oh, almost forgot," he held out his wand and sent thin cords shooting at me. "Heh heh," he chuckled as I fell to the hard floor.  
  
"Ugly git!" I yelled at the door.  
  
It seemed like hours passed in that room. I could hardly see and I couldn't move except to roll from my side to my stomach and to my other side. That infernal clock was driving me insane. After a while I began to talk to myself and hum little songs to drown out the ticking.  
  
At six o' five Shue came thumping down the stairs again, this time clutching a small, folded piece of parchment in his hand.  
  
"I thought we should read it together," he smiled a toothy grin.  
  
I glared up at him from the floor. He stood over me and began to read the letter.  
  
" 'To Whom It May Concern: Impersonating another wizard is a very serious offense and a pathetic attempt to get my attention. I will _not_ reply to you again, and if you continue to write to me I will find out who you are and see that you are punished. Do not irritate me any further. Severus Snape.' "  
  
This time I could not hide my dismay. _Why doesn't Snape believe me? Why didn't he recognize my handwriting? I am going to die here in this musty basement at the hands of a drunken wretch._  
  
"Oh, poor, poor little Miss Cockerham. So, I guess you were right," Shue said in a voice of mock pity. "I guess Snapey doesn't really care for you after all. You really are nothing to him--"  
  
"That's not true!" I yelled.  
  
Shue smiled again.  
  
_Oh shut up, shut up! Why can't you keep your mouth shut, you idiot!_  
  
"Well, then I guess he will be turning up here any moment."  
  
"No, no! He can't... he doesn't know where I am!" _I don't even know where I am,_ I thought.  
  
"Oh, he'll find you. If he cares as much as you care for him, he'll come. You dirty little girl, you."  
  
"I hate you!" I screamed.  
  
"I'll grow on you, love," he smirked and hobbled out the door once again. 


	9. A White Knight on his Steed

Chapter 9  
  
  
I laid on the cold, dirty floor for a long time, wondering and waiting. The tick tock of the clock echoed in my ears, but this time I did not hum or sing to drown it out. I could not... I couldn't make any noise. I was listening for the sound of Snape crashing in the door upstairs, and then Shue yelling, Snape defeating Shue with an excellent spell, but I heard nothing but Shue's impatient footsteps upstairs.  
  
Finally, after a few hours I gave in, and started to sob. I couldn't stop crying, no matter how hard I tried. _I'm going to die... I'll die here. Snape isn't coming... he won't come for me... I'm going to die._ I cried myself to sleep around eight-thirty, wondering why no one seemed to be looking for me, not even Franco.  
  
My eyes snapped open suddenly as something cold clamped onto my face. I tried to scream but only a muffled squealing sound came out. Something white was looming over my head, it was shushing me and trying to make me hold still.  
  
"Sh, sh! Miss Cockerham, it's me, it's me!"  
  
Finally my eyes adjusted and Professor Snape's face came into focus. I relaxed and stopped trying to scream, so he removed his hand from my mouth.   
  
"Professor?" I whispered. "How did you find me?"  
  
"I followed Shue's owl back when I replied to your message. That was the one of the many flaws in his plan."  
  
"You've known where I was all this time?" I said, raising my voice slightly. "Why didn't you come to get me sooner?" I demanded.  
  
"Miss Cockerham," Snape began impatiently. "That would have been exactly what he wanted. I had to wait until he gave up or passed out, whichever came first. He's been having a few drinks, so I actually came sooner than I thought I would be able to."  
  
"Oh." I felt very foolish and ungrateful. "Sorry," I whispered.  
  
"Never mind, let's just get out of here." He released me from the body bind and helped me onto my feet. He looked at me strangely.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Are you, are you alright?"  
  
"Yes, apart from being disgustingly filthy, I'm just peachy."  
  
"He didn't... he didn't try anything with you, did he?" Snape said quietly.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Snape cleared his throat and ran his hand over his eyes. "Come on, let's go." He grabbed my hand, and despite the situation, I smiled briefly to myself. He led me to the door and listened for a moment, then opened it slowly. He let go of my hand and beckoned me to follow him carefully up the stairs. I slipped on a step and gasped. Snape grabbed me and gave me a "be careful" look.  
  
We reached the top of the staircase and I looked around. We were in an abandoned shop, the same one I had stopped in front of hours before to catch my breath. _I fell right into his trap..._ I realized, but I didn't care. Snape came to rescue me, he really did care after all, and I was going to be safe and home in a matter of moments. I saw Shue slumped in a moth-eaten chair in the corner, a bottle of fire whisky lying on it's side on the floor next to him. He was snoring loudly.  
  
"Did you tell anyone you were coming here?" I whispered.  
  
"Yes, I've notified Dumbledore, and your aunt... and Mr. Polley," he added.  
  
"Franco... what happened to him?"  
  
"Shue tracked him down and put a powerful memory charm on him. He doesn't remember ever making plans to meet you."  
  
"How did Shue find out all of these things about me?" I asked, shivering, not from being cold.  
  
"I suspect he's been following you since you left Hogwarts. He's just been waiting for you to leave the house."  
  
"Why, why would he go through all of this trouble?" I asked, as Snape led me to the fireplace.  
  
"He is a desperate man, Meta. He's in debt up to his earlobes, and he's got wizards and goblins hassling him for the money he owes them. Why he thought he could come to me for help, I don't know. Maybe I was the last person he had left to ask... But here, you've got to go now," he shoved a sack of floo powder into my hand. "I'm dealing with Shue."  
  
"No, you can't! I'm not leaving you here alone with him, Professor, it's not safe!"  
  
"Not safe? Look at him! I doubt he could even find his wand, let alone use it. _Accio Meta's wand_," he called, and my wand came zooming out of Shue's coatpocket. "Here," he said handing it to me. "Now go back to your aunt's house, she's waiting for you."  
  
"I won't." I said firmly.  
  
"Miss Cockerham, you are the most stubborn girl I've ever met!" He said angrily. "Just stay out of trouble, alright? If you got hurt..." His voice trailed off.  
  
"I thought you said that Shue wouldn't be able to find his wand. Between the two of us, he'll be in Azkaban in a flash." I grinned, but Snape still looked worried. "Fine, I'll hide behind the counter like a coward."  
  
"Good." He turned quickly and walked over to Shue. He pointed his wand down at his head and kicked his foot to wake him up. "Get up, you louse."  
  
Shue mumbled and shifted in his chair, but didn't wake up. Snape kicked him again and Shue blinked his eyes open.  
  
"Who the bloody hell--" he grumbled. "Oh, bugger..."  
  
"Good morning," Snape sneered, and sent some cords out of his wand to bind him. He levitated him into the fireplace and stepped in. "Come on, Meta."   
  
I stepped in as well and he took some floo powder from the pouch I was still holding.  
  
"Azkaban!" He shouted.   



	10. Azkaban

Chapter 10   
  
(I truly used my artist's license on this one, as I have NO idea what Azkaban is like on the inside.)  
  
I stepped out of a large fireplace and shivered violently. I was hit with sudden gust of freezing cold air, but it was not just the air that was cold. I felt like my heart was ripped out of my chest and replaced with a cube of ice. Snape followed me out of the fireplace, guiding Shue out with his wand. He didn't appear to have been affected.  
  
"I feel like an empty shell," I said quietly as I followed Snape out of the large, dark, dungeon-like room and down a hallway.  
  
"I told you not to come," Snape said briskly. "It's the dementors, they will do that to you."  
  
Shue whimpered. He, apparently, was not doing well either. His once ruddy cheeks were nearly grey, and his usually boisterous voice was silenced.  
  
"Shut up!" Snape spat, prodding Shue with his wand. "Stay close to me," he added, looking back over his shoulder. "Have you seen a dementor before?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Best brace yourself then,"  
  
"For what," I was about to ask, but just at that moment we reached the end of the hall and I saw them.   
  
Three dementors were standing behind a very roly poly middle-aged man. Their dark hoods shook a bit, and they seemed to want to leap forward at us as we entered the room. I could hear a faint rattling noise coming from them, and the hollow feeling worsened. I wished I could cry, just to show some emotion, but I could not. I felt terrible and empty, and my head was filled with every terrible memory I had.  
  
The short man stepped forward and smiled. I could not smile back, though I wanted to.   
  
"Severus Snape, I presume?" He asked, holding out his hand. Snape took it slowly, and gave him a very brief handshake. "And this, is Mr. Shue?"   
  
"Yes," Snape said sharply and glared at the simpering Shue.  
  
"And who is this?" The man asked, turning his attention to me.  
  
"Miss Meta Cockerham," Snape said. "She was the one taken captive."  
  
"Oh! You're a brave lass," he complimented.  
  
I nodded. I could do nothing else.  
  
"My name is Boris Bottoms, by the way. Head of Azkaban Dementor Relations for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Just a fancy way of saying I tell the dementors what to do, really. Unless someone particularily nasty comes in, then the big guns deal with it."  
  
"How interesting," Snape said sarcastically.  
  
"Thank you," Bottoms smiled, obviously not catching on to Snape's sarcasm. "Well, I suppose we'd best get on with it."  
  
"Yes, I think that would be a good idea," Snape replied, glancing briefly at me.  
  
Bottoms released Shue from his cords and waved his hand. The dementors swept down on him and he squealed. I thought for a moment that they were going to give him a Kiss, and I threw my hands in front of my face, but they merely reached out there slimy looking hands and led him out the door.  
  
I heard the rattling mixed with Shue's screams grow softer and softer, until I could hear them no more, and it became eerily silent.  
  
"It's always difficult," Bottoms said, shaking his head. "But it must be done. Well, good luck, Miss Cockerham. You're a brave girl, you are." He said again.  
  
"Thanks." I mumbled. Snape looked at me and hurried toward the hallway that we had come in from.  
  
"We must be going. Miss Cockerham has had a very difficult few hours and I'm sure her aunt is anxious for her to come home."  
  
"Yes, yes, of course, good-bye then," Bottoms said cheerfully and waved at us as Snape turned me around and led me down the hall.  
  
He didn't speak, only glanced down at me from the corner of his eye. We reached the large fireplace and he grasped some Floo powder from his pocket.  
  
"You don't look well," Snape said before softly pushing me into the fireplace.   
  
"I'm fine..."  
  
Snape stepped into the fireplace beside me and threw the Floo powder down.   
  
"Cockerham Estate," he shouted, and the green flames engulfed us.   
  
In less than a second we were in my Aunt Agnes' large study. Aunt Agnes herself, however, was not there.  
  
"Thank you, Professor," I said, meaning to say goodbye, but he was still clutching my arm protectively.  
  
"Where is your aunt? I'd really like to make sure she's here."  
  
"Oh, she's here somewhere..."  
  
"But you were kidnapped! I told her you'd be coming home in a few minutes, and that was nearly an hour ago. Shouldn't she be worried?" He looked very angry, but I didn't know why. I thought of all people, he'd know that my Aunt Agnes was not the sentimental type.  
  
"It's fine, I'm fine," I insisted.  
  
He squeezed my arm harder, and it began to hurt.   
  
"Professor, my arm," I said quietly.   
  
"Oh," he looked down at his hand and quickly let go. "Sorry. I didn't realize..."  
  
"Well, I'll just be going now--"  
  
"You should have some chocolate."  
  
"I will, I'll eat some straight away."  
  
"I really would like to speak with your aunt."  
  
"That's not necessary--"  
  
"What do you need, Severus?" My aunt casually walked into the room holding a wine glass. "Would you like some wine?"  
  
"You do realize what your niece has been through don't you?" Snape demanded angrily.  
  
"Oh yes, you informed me of her situation."  
  
"Situation?" He said, clutching his fists.  
  
"Professor, it's fine," I interrupted. "Please, this is just the way my aunt is, I'm fine, you can go."  
  
"This isn't right, Meta. She should--" He said quietly to me.  
  
"I should what, Severus?" Agnes glared and took a sip of her wine. "Sob and throw my self at your feet? She's only my niece. I do thank you for her return, but if you don't mind, I must get back to my pedicure." She gestured toward her toes and walked out the door.  
  
"That woman." He glared daggers at the door after she shut it.  
  
"Yes... She cares only for herself." I slumped down in a leather armchair. I was exhausted and really just wanted Snape to leave so I could go to sleep.  
  
"Are you sure you'll be alright?"  
  
"Yes, yes," I waved my hand at him. Normally I would be ecstatic at his amazing amount of concern for me, but I was tired, dirty, and emotionally drained.  
  
"Good-bye Miss Cockerham," he said apprehensively, and before apparating away he grasped my hand and gave it a quick, tight squeeze.   
  



	11. Gossip Girls

Chapter 11  
  
  
I felt his hand linger on mine for half an hour, like a ghost come back to haunt me. The thing about it was that I welcomed this particular ghost. What had made Snape, who shows no affection, and never in the form of physical contact, grasp my hand like that? What was he trying to do? Perhaps, I reasoned, it was a moment of confusion. It had been a long night, after all, and Azkaban plays with one's head. He was not quite right after going there. He hid it well, but not well enough. _That was why he held my hand. Yes, that's it, and don't dwell on it any longer._  
  
The rest of the Christmas holiday went by slowly and uneventfully. I slept late most mornings and ate at odd times. I rarely ever got dressed or combed my hair. I wanted to relax and be lazy, and not have to think about Shue, or the dementors, or anything. The only time I really put anything besides pajamas on was the day that Franco came to visit. He brought gifts of flowers and chocolate and many apologies.   
  
"It's my fault," he said guilitily. "You could have been... It's my fault."  
  
I told him that there was nothing he could have done, and he didn't need to apologize, and I pleaded him to stop being so gloomy, but it didn't do much good.   
  
_He will be alright_, I told myself. _ He needs time to cope. He'll be fine when we're back at Hogwarts._ It was as if he was the one who had been kidnapped. I denied myself the truth. I hid it away with pajamas and pancakes at three in the afternoon.  
  
_Good job,_ I commended myself. _You've gone the whole end of the break without thinking of Professor Snape once, and now it's the first day of classes and the only reason you're thinking about him now is because you are going to the dungeons to Potions Class and since Professor Snape teaches Potions Class there is nothing bad or wrong or strange about htinking about him now, is there?  
  
Shut up, you babbling liar,_ snapped the little voice. _It's bad enough when you lie to other people, but it's the absolute worst when you lie to your self. Shame, shame._  
  
Franco was chattering mindlessly next to me as we walked to the classroom together, but as we crossed the treshold he instantly fell silent, his fear for Snape still evident. We sat in our usual seats and I glanced briefly at Snape who was bending over some papers at his desk. Without meaning to, I looked at him a second time. Something was different about him. I could see that at the first glance, but what was it? I studied his mostly hidden face and saw that it no longer had such a terrible gray shade to it. He lifted his head and his dark hair fell away from his face. My breath caught in my throat, which I covered up with a fake cough. He looked almost handsome and elegant at that moment. He appeared to be much, much better than when I had seen him last. Evidently, Shue's blackmailing and hassling had taken it's toll, and now that he was free of Shue forever, his health seemed to have improved. A few months, maybe even weeks before, I may not have noticed the subtle change in his skin tone, the slightly relaxed lines around his mouth, the lightening of his under eye circles, but I was more perceptive now, and he certainly was a changed man.  
  
I soon noticed that I was not the only one looking at Snape. Nearly the entire class, Franco included, was watching Snape, waiting.  
  
_Can't you see it? Don't you see it?_ They did not. They were still waiting for proof. You see, there was no way to keep my kidnapping a secret, and since everyone knew about that, naturally, they knew of my daring rescue by Severus Snape. The only thing they did not know was Shue's relationship to Snape, or why it had been me who Shue chose to kidnap. These were things that not even the Daily Prophet could uncover. I myself never read the numerous articles about Snape or about myself, but everyone else had. Now they were expecting a newer, kinder, Snape.  
  
"What are you dunderheads staring at?" Snape crossly snapped at the class and his brief elegant expression was cast away to be replaced with the good old sneer.  
  
_Tough luck,_ I wanted to say to the class. _No new Snape today, as far as you can tell._  
  
"Directions on the board, don't make me say it twice."  
  
And so, with that, everyone forgot about getting a new Snape, and turned their attention and gossip toward me. The first week back of school was nothing but whispers of "I heard she's deranged now, after the incident", and "She only wants attention", or "Her aunt hired Shue to do it".  
  
"That's a good theory," I said to a second-year Hufflepuff one day as I overheard her going into detail about the illicit love affair between Shue and my Aunt. "If I didn't know the truth, I'd be inclined to believe that one myself." The girl and her friend scampered away.  
  
"This isn't fair, Franco. Snape is a hero now, and I am a pity-grabbing weakling."  
  
"_I_ know you're not a weakling," Franco said. "I'm the weakling who let himself get his memory wiped."  
  
"Franco, stop it, at least they didn't put your name in the articles. I feel like I did after my dad died." I sighed, remembering how it was last year. "Why is everyone always so interested in my life? It's not that exciting, honestly."  
  
"No, it's really not," Franco said in agreement. 


	12. A Mistake, Nothing More

Chapter 12  
  
The thing about gossip is that _you_ know what the truth is, but somewhere along the line that ceases to be comforting. I tried to keep a low profile so that nobody could find anything else to say about me. Granted, not everyone gossiped. Alot of people simply gave me pitying glances, or asked me how I was feeling, or tried to give me hugs. I wanted to scream, _Don't look at me! I'm feeling fine! Don't touch me!_, but I knew that would only make things worse. I was fine, fine, fine on the outside, but on the inside I was not fine, and I didn't realize that at first.  
  
"I heard he did things to her. You know, _bad_ things."  
  
"Snape walked in on it. That's why he can't look her in the eye anymore."  
  
_Keep your head down. Don't look at their faces, whatever you do. Don't let them know that you heard. Don't give them the satisfaction. Don't turn red, don't get angry, don't twitch, don't move, don't feel. You are a stone. You are untouchable._  
  
Franco tried to help. He tried to act like things were still normal between us, but it was no use. Every joke had a bitter note, every laugh that managed to escape my lips was quickly stopped, every smile turned quickly down, and I could tell that Franco was letting his guilt get in the way of our friendship. He was of the "How are you feeling?" lot, and I found myself wanting more and more to get away from him.  
  
It was one of those nights when I left the common room just before curfew. Franco kept staring at me like he thought I might blow up, as if I was a ticking bomb. I had to get out and get some fresh air. I crept through the empty corridors, eerily lit by flickering torches. I could see my shadow move along the ancient stone wall. _At least my shadow doesn't talk about me behind my back_, I thought. The only people who don't talk about me are my shadow, Franco and... Snape.  
  
_Snape! That coward. He knows what people say, even right under his nose in Potions class, and yet he doesn't do a thing about it. Not one thing. He's never stopped anyone from spreading rumors that aren't true. He knows the truth! He was there too! He must enjoy seeing me suffer. It must give him pleasure._  
  
The more I thought, the more wicked my thoughts became. I became very angry with Snape, not really for standing aside and letting people say what they wanted, I knew deep down that that was the only option for him. I was angry with him because he came and rescued me and saved me from Shue. He brought me home. He protected me. He took my hand in his for that brief moment, and then he left me and stopped speaking to me; stopped thinking of me all together.   
  
_I'm just some toy that he dropped, and now he's picked me up again and put me back on the shelf. He has no more use for me._  
  
By the time I reached the front door I was fuming and blind with anger. I ran onto the grass and toward the lake. It was freezing outside, and a light rain was falling, the kind of winter rain that sinks into your bones. I found a tree near the water and sat down under it. I folded my knees up toward my chest and rested my chin on them like an Incan mummy.   
  
_Maybe I'll freeze and they'll find me this way. They'll have to pry me off of the ground because there will be a layer of ice covering my body. I wonder if I could manage to die with my eyes open..._  
  
_Oh stop your whining,_ said the voice. _Shut up, you wuss._  
  
I sat there for god knows how long, and soon the cold brisk air began to clear my mind. I knew what I had to do. I got up off of the ground stiffly, and trudged back up to the castle. I threw open the doors, not caring if I was caught by Peeves or Filch's cat or anyone else. I walked quickly and determinedly down the corridor that led the stone steps that led to another corridor that led to the dungeons.  
  
I marched right up to Professor Snape's classroom door, hoping that he was still there or in his office. I knocked loudly three times and shoved the heavy wooden door wide open.  
  
Snape was at his desk correcting some papers. His pen was still in his hand, the tip still resting on the top of a piece of parchment and creating a large ink blot. He looked shocked at stared dumbly at me for a moment  
  
"Miss Cockerham!" He threw down the pen and leapt out of his chair. "You never, NEVER barge in on a Professor's room!"  
  
"I knocked."   
  
"And then you wait for a reply!" He yelled.  
  
"I don't have the time to wait for you." I said through gritted teeth.   
  
"Miss Cockerham, ten points from Ravenclaw--"  
  
"Take as many points as you want," I said briskly. "I don't care. I don't care what you do, as long as you acknowledge me."  
  
"Fine, twenty points then, if you don't care, now get out!"  
  
"Why can't you look at me?"  
  
My words hung in the air like a cloud. Snape froze with his mouth slightly open. His eyes darted back and forth in his sockets. He was thinking, the cogs in his brain were turning. He was trying to come up with something to say, and for once, wasn't succeeding.  
  
"What--"  
  
"You can't look at me. You can't anymore. You never call on me, you never even say my name. I could dance naked in a gigantic cauldron tomorrow in class and you wouldn't care, or notice."  
  
"Please don't," he cringed.  
  
"This is the longest conversation we've had since you brought me back to my aunt's house."  
  
"There is no 'we'. I am your teacher, Miss Cockerham. We do not need to have any conversations of any sort. You are here to learn. I am here to teach you and take points from you when you misbehave." He turned slightly and was about to order me to leave when I said,  
  
"If there is no 'we', then why did you hold my hand?"  
  
Snape turned a sickly color.   
  
"Look me in the eye," I commanded. "And tell me why."  
  
He slowly turned toward me and established eye contact.   
  
"I really do not think we should discuss that. It was a mistake. I was only trying to give you support after your difficult situation. Nothing more."  
  
"Nothing more?" I prodded.  
  
"Miss Cockerham," he said softly, still looking me in the eye. Then he broke the gaze and his tone changed. "Get out." He said and turned away, stalked into his office, and slammed the door. 


	13. Essence of Wood Nymph

Chapter 13  
  
After leaving Snape's room I felt no better. I had wanted to resolve things once and for all, but really I had only made things worse. I do not know what I expected from him, but I know what I wanted. I wanted him to tell me he cared for me, as foolish as it may sound, and he had done the complete opposite. What was it that he had said?   
  
_It was a mistake… nothing more._   
  
_He lies_, I told myself. _He knows the truth, as well as I do._  
  
Somehow, in my angry haze, I managed to find my way back to the Ravenclaw tower and to my dormitory. I kicked off my shoes and crawled into bed with all of my clothes on but I did not sleep. Instead I stared into my pillow all night, waiting for the sun to rise so I could get up and go down to breakfast before the crowd.   
  
I noticed that Snape was not yet at the teacher's table, and I was glad. I was angry with him, angrier than I had been before, even angrier than I had been when he gave me a 'D' on that paper the year before. That was the paper that started it all, really. Just think. If I hadn't gotten a poor grade on it, I would have never had detention, and no detention means no finding the diary, and no finding the diary… Well, there was no pushing the sand back up the hourglass. I ate my breakfast slowly, swallowing each bite as if it were sandpaper. Not even the pumpkin juice tasted right, and pumpkin juice always tastes just right.  
  
"Meta!" Franco plopped down beside me and I shook off my daydream.  
  
"Oh, hey, Franco," I said, trying to sound cheerful and friendly.  
  
"Where were you last night? I was going to ask you to help me with my Herbology homework."  
  
"I was… around."   
  
"Oh," Franco said and dove into a plate of large, golden pancakes. "Listen, Meta. I'm worried about you, well we all are actually."  
  
"_We?_ Who exactly is 'we'?" I demanded, sensing a lecture.  
  
"All of us, all of Ravenclaw, and some of the Hufflepuffs too. We've noticed that you've changed after, well, you know."  
  
"No, Franco, I don't know." I was beginning to get angry. "Why don't you explain it to me?"  
  
"Meta, it's just that you've been acting so… depressed after, after you got kidnapped," Franco stuttered.  
  
"No I haven't."   
  
"Yes, you have."  
  
"NO, I HAVEN'T!" I jumped up and knocked over my pumpkin juice. The few people in the hall turned to look at me. "I am _not_ depressed. I'm just peachy, thanks!"  
  
"Meta, please!" Franco called after me as I stormed out. "Meta, wait." He grabbed my arm as I walked out the doors into the entrance hall. "I'm just trying to help. I just- I just want you to know that there are people who care about you."  
  
"Oh, yeah?" My voice was sharp and defiant. "Like who?"  
  
"Like me." Franco said quietly and looked down at his shoes. "I like you, Meta. I always have. Except… I like you more and more each day now…" His voice tapered off and he kept his eyes on his laces.  
  
I stood there for a moment, not quite understanding what he was saying, but when it registered, I couldn't be angry with him any more. I didn't know what to say, Franco was my best friend, he always had been, and I thought he always would be. But now, if he cared about me _that_ way, well, it would ruin everything.  
  
"Franco," I began quietly.  
  
"Wait. Don't say anything, okay?" He finally looked at me, and I was surprised to see that his face showed anger. "I knew I couldn't compete with your dear Severus." He said bitterly, and the moment it escaped his lips he regretted it.  
  
"What?" I said, barely moving my lips.  
  
"Never mind. Just never mind. Forget I ever said anything!" He turned to go up the staircase. He stopped halfway up and turned around. Then he called out, "You know, why don't you just forget that we ever met? It might just make things easier for you!"  
  
"Franco!" I yelled, but it was no use. "What has happened to you?" I whispered the back of his head.  
  
  
Later that day, to my horror, was Double Potions. I sat next to the boy I turned down, and was being instructed by the man who I had been turned down by. I couldn't help but feel miserable for myself. Never before had I wallowed in such self-pity. Never before had I wanted to cry more than I did that day. Franco was silent as death. He didn't look at me once or ask me to help him cut his marrow root. He acted as if I wasn't even there. It was more than I could bear.  
  
Snape, I thought, was doing the same, as usual, but I was wrong. My mind was clouded and I wasn't concentrating as well as I should have been. I vaguely remember that Snape had said this potion was touchy, and the ingredients were very precious, or something like that, but I didn't really care that much. I also didn't notice that Snape was standing right behind me as I poured an entire bottle of Essence of Wood Nymph into my simmering cauldron.  
  
"What," Snape yelled into my ear. "Do you think you are doing?"  
  
"I don't know," I mumbled.  
  
"You stupid girl!" He shouted at my face and grabbed my wrist. "You have just poured every ounce of one of the rarest ingredients in the world into your cauldron!"  
  
"Sorry," I stammered. He was glaring down at me with almost the same look of hatred that he had looked at Shue with as the Dementors led him away, kicking and screaming.   
  
"Sorry, isn't good enough, you miserable, idiotic, careless--"  
  
"SHUT UP!" I screamed, and month's worth of frustration, longing, and humiliation poured out of my eyes. I couldn't see his face any more, nor the faces of the other students, because my vision was blurry from the tears. I knocked over my cauldron with my arm and sent it clattering to the floor. "I don't care about your stupid Essence of Wood Nymph, and I don't care about you!" The room was completely silent except for the sound of Franco next to me, fidgeting nervously. I blinked, and the tears streamed down my cheeks. I didn't want to cry in front of all these people, and especially not in front of Snape, not again, but I couldn't help it. Snape's arm twitched at his side, as if he wanted to hit me. I didn't look at his face.   
  
"One hundred points from Ravenclaw," I heard him say as I was walking out the door.  
  
"I hate you." Was my reply. 


	14. A Branch in the Path

Chapter 14  
  
I said those words to hurt him, I didn't truly hate him, I knew that. But I wanted to break him, to crack his shell, to get under his skin like he got under mine. I wanted to make him feel, though I didn't believe that he ever would. It was worth a try.  
  
I was strangely calm as I walked out of the dungeons and up toward the lighter, more airy floors above and out the large doors. I noticed that the weather was still very cold, but at least it wasn't raining today. _I hope I get sick_, I thought. _And become deathly ill, and then they'll all feel sorry for me_. I walked across the grounds and began to wonder if I should turn back and get my cloak or some gloves. It was still January after all, and it could turn even colder any moment. _No_, I decided. _I'm being dramatic, and it would ruin the drama if I went back up to my room to get a coat_.  
  
So, I kept on going, walking again, to I knew not where. This time, instead of heading toward the lake, I marched purposefully toward the Forbidden Forest.   
  
_And what,_ snapped that little voice, _exactly are you going to do when you get there?_  
  
"I don't know yet!" I shouted, and then clapped my hand over my mouth. I glanced behind me to make sure no one was following. Of course, no one was.  
  
_Talking to yourself now. First you hear voices, and then you talk back. What next, hallucinations?_  
  
The already overcast sky seemed to turn darker the nearer I came to the ancient trees. At last I stood on the edge of the grass, hesitating, wondering if I truly should cross the threshold and step onto the mossy carpet. _I could be expelled... but then again, I'll probably be expelled anyway. Never mind that, I am distraught. They'll forgive me. And even if they don't, I'll move to London and live like a muggle._  
  
I took a deep breath and dove in. For the first few minutes I couldn't understand why the forest was deemed so dangerous. _Students were once allowed to come here, weren't they? Why can't we go in now? I won't get lost, if that's what they're worried about_.   
  
I kept thinking about the events of the past two months: the kidnapping, the gossiping, Snape, Franco... I soon realized that I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I stopped and looked behind me, wondering how long I had been walking. I couldn't see anything familiar. There was no longer a path, or much clearing of any sort, actually.   
  
_If I just keep walking, I'm bound to come out of the end. This forest can't go on forever..._  
  
"Maybe it does," I whispered.   
  
I felt even colder now, and the sun seemed to be going down. _It can't be that late already, can it?_ I was starting to feel a bit creeped out. There were sounds everywhere. Each time I stepped on a twig or leaf, the cracking sound seemed to echo all around me, as if little beasts were mocking me from behind the gnarly trees. Once I even heard a shrieking sound come from not so very far away. _I'm not scared, I'm not scared,_ I chanted to myself, but even as I said those words, my pulse began to quicken and I began to stumble on the roots and stones.   
  
"Weeeeeeeiiiiioooooouuuuuu!"  
  
I screamed and turned, running away from the screeching sound. I looked over my shoulder to make sure nothing was chasing me, and smacked my head into a low tree limb.   
  
_Ow,_ I vaguely remember thinking, before everything went black. 


	15. Unwanted Rescue

Chapter 15  
  
  
_Miss Cockerham! That bloody girl!_ Voices from far away, muffled footsteps on the frozen leaves and moss reached my ears.  
  
_I must be dreaming_, I thought blearily. _But where am I? This bed is hard…_ I willed my eyes to open, but my eyelids were too heavy.   
  
"Not again! How many times do I have to rescue you, blasted fool?" The voice, whoever it was, sounded angry at first, but then when it received no reply, it changed its tone very much and sounded almost concerned. "Miss Cockerham! Meta? Where _are_ you?"  
  
_I don't know where she is, sir. Now kindly get out of my forest!_ Being in the semi-conscious state that I was in, I seemed to think that this last bit was very funny and I let out a loud giggle. The footsteps stopped.  
  
"Get out of my forest!" I mumbled out loud to the figure that was now approaching me.   
  
"Miss Cockerham, what are you doing here?"  
  
"What does it look like?"  
  
"I honestly can't say," replied the cold and haughty voice.  
  
_Wait, I know who this is! This is—_  
  
"Snape!" I shouted furiously and shook off the overwhelming feeling of sleepiness.  
  
"_Professor_ Snape, Miss Cockerham. Now stop all of this foolishness, and come on." He reached his hand down to help me up, but I shook my head and gripped the tree trunk I was sitting against instead.  
  
"I'm not your damsel in distress!" I puffed, pulling myself up rather wobbly.   
  
"I know," Snape replied smoothly, apparently amused. "Let me help y--"  
  
"No! You don't have to rescue me! I'm perfectly capable of rescuing myself!"  
  
Snape opened his mouth to interject some snide remark, but I went on, gathering steam.  
  
"You- you made me _cry_ like a baby in front of the whole entire class, and you think you can just waltz right over and everything will be alright again? Think you can put me in my place, do you? Well, you can't!" I took a breath. "I also think you are a rude, patronizing, arrogant, jerk! And you should have stayed in your stupid, ugly dungeon with your stupid, ugly self and frittered away at your useless little potions instead of coming out here to find me!" I glared up at his face, which for the moment was void of expression.  
  
"I would have," he said after a few seconds, "if your little… _friend_ hadn't pounded on my door in hysterics, claiming that you hadn't been back to the castle since your little temper tantrum." The corners of his lips curled up ever so slightly, and I would have given anything to slap him at that moment. "Polley, in case you were wondering exactly which boyfriend it was," he added.  
  
_What does he mean by that? Did he overhear somehow? What does he think? Wait, you're angry, remember? You're angry!_  
  
"I'm angry!" I shouted.  
  
"Good job, Miss Cockerham, yes you are. I'm glad you can finally express your emotions." He rolled his eyes. "Now, let's get going. We wouldn't want any _more_ trouble."   
  
I tried to take a step to rush away from him because his face was irritating me to no end, but the moment I did, I felt like I had been plucked up by my feet and held upside down.  
  
Snape quickly caught me, much to my chagrin, before I hit the ground. Mixed in with the fury that he was "saving" me once again was that same electricity I had felt when he touched my hand…  
  
"Miss Cockerham, did you hit your head?" He pushed me back down against the tree and kneeled to look at my face. This time it was my turn to turn away from _his_ eyes.   
  
"Maybe," I grumbled. "So what if I did?"  
  
"You could have a concussion. Your eyes look a bit odd." Then he reached his long, slender hand toward my face and gently turned my chin back towards his face. He brushed a few stray hairs from my face and my heart practically jumped out of my chest. He squinted at my forehead and then pressed on it.  
  
"OW!" A sharp pain went through my body and I turned away again.  
  
"You've got a large welt coming on your forehead. We better get up to Madam Pomfrey before it gets darker."  
  
"You could have just _told_ me that I had a bump on my forehead, instead of jabbing your fingers at it!" I grumbled, covering my forehead with my hand.  
  
"Don't be such a brat!" He helped me to my feet and brushed the leaves off of his cloak. Suddenly , I remembered how cold it was and hugged my arms around my chest. Snape noticed, and sighed.  
  
"Oh, fine." He snapped and un-hooked his cloak. "Here." He threw it roughly over my shoulders. I was shocked by how warm and heavy it was. _I wonder if it smells like him…_  
  
"Come on, stop dawdling." He grabbed my shoulder and began to lead me out of the dark forest, holding his lit wand aloft with the other arm.  
  
"Can't we slow down?" I pleaded after tripping for the umpteenth time, attempting to keep up with Snape's impossibly long strides.  
  
"No." He pulled me back up and brushed me off like a four-year-old. "And stop tripping."   
  
"Oh, sure, right away," I replied sarcastically.  
  
He looked at me out of the corner of his eye and said, "Here, walk on this side of me, there are less roots." He practically picked me up and set me down on the other side of him and he switched his wand to the other arm and we went on.  
  
Finally, after walking for what seemed like hours and darkness had completely enveloped the forest, we saw a bit of bluish light peeking out of the trees.  
  
"Is that the end?"   
  
"Yes, come on, just a little bit more."   
  
I was sorer than sore, bruised, battered, and exhausted beyond belief. "I'm so tired…"  
  
"Come on, Meta, stay awake. Just a little bit further."  
  
_He said 'Meta',_ I thought stupidly. _I wonder what that means._  
  
"I can't…" I whispered and nearly fell down again. Snape shoved his wand in between his teeth and with one swift movement, he lifted me up in his arms. "Don't carry me," I mumbled.   
  
"Be quiet, you're too slow, I have no other choice."  
  
"Okay," I said wearily and rested my face against his chest.   
  
"Don't fall asleep, Meta."  
  
"I'm not… Just resting my eyes..."  
  
"Liar." He squeezed my arm with his hand. "Keep your eyes open. I know it's hard, but keep them open."  
  
"Okay."   
  
  
"Meta!" Franco shouted as Snape carried me into the entrance hall. "Meta, I'm sorry, we were so worried, I'm sorry, Oh, I'm going to get you killed someday--"  
  
"Polley, please." I heard Snape say from right next to my ear, and I felt the vibrations against my cheek. His heart was thumping loudly. "Spare the waterworks. Madam Pomfrey, she's hit her head, I think she has a concussion."  
  
"Oh dear, come on, take her up to the hospital wing, Severus," Pomfrey said.  
  
"Get to bed, Polley."  
  
"No, Professor Snape, please, let me just make sure she's alright!"   
  
"I'm alright, Franco, you can go to bed." I mumbled.  
  
Franco made a small noise.  
  
"Fine, Polley! You can come along if you keep your mouth shut!" Snape snapped and I felt him practically run up the stairs, Pomfrey and Franco following behind.   
  
_He has to be getting tired… I must be heavy._  
  
I felt him set me down on the bed a few minutes later and Madam Pomfrey fed me an awful tasting liquid.  
  
"There, she can sleep safely now," she said.  
  
"Will she be alright?" I heard Franco ask pleadingly.  
  
"Oh yes, she'll be quite fine, quite fine. She should be back in class tomorrow."  
  
"Tomorrow, Pomfrey?" Snape's voice said as I drifted off. "Don't you think that is a bit too soon?"  
  
Finally, I fell into a deep, heavy sleep. 


	16. Apology

"Meta, please wake up now. I want to apologize and I'm tired of waiting," whined a familiar voice.  
  
I felt something peculiar poking at my shoulder. I fidgeted, trying to make it stop.   
  
"Come on, you've been sleeping for days. Okay, well, not _days_ exactly, but a really long time, and I want you to wake up."  
  
I had forgotten where I was once again. Too many times had I woken up disoriented and confused. _If only I could get a good night's sleep and wake up alone for once…_  
  
"Wake up, wake up!" Franco prodded at my shoulder and waved his hand in front of my eyes.  
  
"What!" I shouted, my eyelids fluttering open and my senses coming back to me.  
  
"Meta!" Franco shouted, overjoyed at my waking. "I've been waiting, and waiting, and I thought you would never get up."  
  
"I'm up now." I groaned and lifted myself up against the cold, metal headboard. "You better have a good reason for waking me."  
  
"I have two. First of all, you have been sleeping since last night, and it's after dinner now. Secondly, I need to say 'sorry' before I go nuts and jump in the lake."  
  
"Franco," I sighed, remembering the night before. I hoped that it wouldn't be awkward now between us, now that I knew his feelings. "Please. You don't need to say anything."  
  
"Yes, I do." He insisted. "I'm really sorry that I put you in that position. I should have just kept my big, fat mouth shut. I'm an idiot and a coward, not sticking up for you when Snape was tearing you to pieces--"  
  
"Hmph," I snorted, not really wanting to remember that unpleasant experience.  
  
"Anyway," he began again. "I've never been so sorry in my life, and I want us to be friends."  
  
"Friends?" I asked, looking up from the quilt into Franco's face.  
  
"Yes. Friends." He smiled a slightly sad smile.   
  
"Friends." I agreed and he shook my hand.   
  
"Ahem."  
  
Franco and I both turned see whom the voice belonged to.   
  
"P-Professor Snape," Franco stuttered and quickly rose from the chair next to my bed.   
  
"Polley," Snape sneered. "Shouldn't you be in your dormitory?"  
  
"Yes, sorry, Professor. Good night, Meta."  
  
"Bye, Franco." I said softly and smiled as he ran out of the hospital wing. Once he was gone, I turned my attention back to the blanket covering my lap. "Do you have to be so mean to him?"   
  
"Who, Polley?" Snape scoffed.  
  
"His name is Franco, Professor, or Mr. Polley at least."  
  
"I do not think you are in a position to correct me." He said this sharply, but not cruelly. Snape sat down in the chair that Franco had been in a minute before.  
  
"I just think that you should give him a little more respect, in the classroom at least." I said calmly, keeping my eyes down.  
  
"Why should I? Your little boyfriend isn't exactly a genius in the Potions field."  
  
"He's not my boyfriend!" I almost lost it, but I quickly regained my composure. "Why are you here anyway?"  
  
"Pomfrey asked me to check up on you while she ate dinner. You gave her and Polley quite a scare, running off like that."  
  
"Yes, I know, thank you. If you're done ridiculing me--"  
  
"I'm not trying to ridicule you, actually. For goodness sake! Look at someone when they are speaking to you!" He sounded exasperated and almost motherly. I slowly lifted my eyes and met his gaze. He seemed to be analyzing me, trying to read my mind. "I didn't come here to ridicule you. I came here to," he paused, searching for the right word. "Well, I came here to--"  
  
"Apologize?" I interjected.  
  
"Not apologize, exactly, as I don't _really_ have anything to apologize about…"  
  
"I accept." I chose to ignore his ramblings and simply take them to be words of deep regret. One can't expect to hear the words "I'm sorry" coming from Severus Snape's lips.  
  
"I didn't… Oh, nevermind." Snape rose from the chair and swept out, but I swear I saw, as he turned to open the door, a small smile on his thin lips. 


	17. A Pearl for Eighteen Years

Chapter 17  
  
The rest of January came and went, and then February, and finally March, my birthday month. By then the gossip had began to wane, and I felt like I could breathe again. No one except for a few Professors, Franco, Madam Pomfrey, and Dumbledore knew about my venture out to the Forbidden Forest. I had escaped severe reprimand because, it was decided, I was "going through a difficult time", and deserved to be excused from the matter. My eighteenth birthday was a small celebration with Franco and a few friends in the common room. I preferred things to be small. I found that it attracted less attention, which was perfect. I wanted to blend into the background.  
  
Things were better between Franco and me, though they weren't exactly how they had been before. We had an unwritten promise not to discuss what had been said between us that night in January. Franco wouldn't mention Snape, and I wouldn't mention Franco's feelings for me. The agreement worked, and we remained friends, but sometimes I noticed a glint of sadness in his eyes that even the broadest grin could not hide, and it broke my heart.  
  
I wanted to like him the way he liked me. I wanted to return the favor. But I could not. My affection belonged to someone else, someone who should not have had it, someone who, perhaps, did not deserve it as much as Franco did. My affection belonged to someone who did not seem to notice me anymore.  
  
I suppose Snape found it easier that way, and I agreed. I did not want another scene like the one in January. It only ended in trouble and tears. I decided it was best to let him forget me, for the most part. He called on me from time to time, scolded me from time to time, and gave me grades according to my performance, neither too high nor too low. Yet, there was a struggle in his attitude toward me that wasn't there before. It was as if he was trying too hard to make things seem normal.   
  
_Does he really care about me? Like _that_? And if he does, what could become of it?_  
  
Nothing. Nothing was the answer, and I resigned myself to that fact. Just as Franco gave up and realized he could only be my friend, I gave up and realized that Snape could only be my teacher. It was true, after all, what he had said those months ago. _He is my teacher. Nothing more._ I guess you could say that I was just too tired to love him anymore... not that you can ever stop loving anyone.   
  
_This isn't how it works!_ The little voice pleaded. _You're going about it all wrong! You love him, you know it..._  
  
Once the voice of reason, now the voice of irrational thoughts, I silenced my conscience with Herbology homework and History reports.  
  
The morning of March 18th, a day after my birthday, a haughty-looking owl swept over the Ravenclaw table and dropped a small package on my lap. I tore it open, not bothering to check who it was from. Inside was a beautiful gold ring with a single, tiny, white pearl.  
  
"Oh..." I gasped and gaped at the ring. It was simple but I knew it was special somehow.   
  
"Who's it from?" Franco mumbled through his hashbrowns.  
  
"Um, I don't know, there's no note..."  
  
"Your Aunt Agnes, maybe?"  
  
"Highly doubtful... unless it was a gift from someone and she didn't want it because it was too plain. She tends to pawn off unwanted presents on me."  
  
I slipped the ring on my ring finger and held out my hand. It almost seemed to glow.  
  
"Now I'll have to remember not to stick my hand in Professor Sprout's 'special' potting soil," I remarked and got up from the table. Franco followed behind me as he always did, but this time instead of feeling just his pair of eyes on the back of my head, I could swear I felt another.  
  
_Stop it._ I shook off the funny feeling and headed toward the greenhouses. 


	18. Owls

  
Chapter 18  
  
  
The owl I received the next day said,  
  
_Sorry it was late. Happy Birthday._  
  
  
"Um, Franco?" I looked at Franco who was gobbling down some porridge.   
  
"Wha?" He mumbled through the food.  
  
"Did you…"  
  
"Did I," he swallowed roughly. "Send you the ring?"  
  
"Well, did you?"  
  
"No," he said, and turned back to his bowl. "But I bet I know who did."  
  
It was best not to answer. When he got that way, it was a good idea to change the subject.   
  
"So, that Arithmancy quiz yesterday was really hard, wasn't it?"   
  
"Yep." He didn't look up.  
  
Damn. He was in one of those moods again. When he got into them he would be gloomy and brooding for the whole rest of the day. _Maybe I should just snog him to make him feel better… It's probably bound to happen anyway._  
  
  
The day after that:  
  
_The ring was my mother's._  
  
Franco pretended not to notice it. _Either he is very good at pretending, or he really didn't send the ring._  
  
  
  
And the day after that:  
  
_Look on the inside of the band._  
  
I glanced at Franco. He seemed genuinely distracted by Leila telling the table a story about her uncle and a vampire. I looked at the staff table. Snape seemed to be listening to Professor McGonnagall. I slipped the ring off of my finger and tilted it toward the light. Inside of the thin gold band, in miniscule script were the words,   
  
_To my dearest Berthe, from your father._  
  
I almost choked. _It is him after all. What is he playing at, giving me his dead mother's ring?_ I jammed the ring back on my finger and excused myself from the table. I felt his damn eyes boring into my head again. _Why is he doing this to me? He's only a tease in a long black cloak!_  
  
  
That evening, much to my frustration, an owl came to the window of the dormitory as I was lying on top of my bed.  
  
"Not you." I glared at the bird, and it hooted as if to say, "Ha, ha, ha." I took the rolled up piece of parchment, but the snotty bird didn't fly away.  
  
_I seem to have upset you._  
  
"No, really," I said sarcastically. "Oh, so he wants me to reply, does he?" I asked the owl.   
  
"Hoot."  
  
"Fine, then!" I ripped a piece of parchment off of a scroll and quickly scribbled a short note.  
  
_Please leave me alone._   
  
I was about to send it off, but changed my mind. I scribbled it out and rewrote it, more tactfully this time.   
  
_Professor Snape,   
Please, please do not bother me if you can't or won't make anything of it. I thank you for the ring, but I am afraid I will be forced to return it if you do not show me how you really feel. I mean it._   
  
I sent it off and paced the floor. What seemed like centuries passed and the owl finally returned.   
  
_Meta,   
Keep the ring. I mean it, too.   
  
–Severus_  
  
  
So, in his own way, he told me, finally, that he loved me. But I still ached for him to show it. I knew he couldn't, because he was my teacher, but I couldn't help feeling that the short letters he began to send me almost every night were somewhat lacking. Each evening, like clockwork, another message came. They consisted of the same "how are you" incessant small talk each time, which was so unlike him. I never knew what to say in reply, so I answered his questions. The letters were certainly not "love letters". If anyone ever intercepted them they might think that we were twelve-year-old pen pals, shyly chatting for the first time.  
  
After weeks of it, I ran out of sensible questions to ask, so I finally got down to the nitty-gritty.  
  
_When are you going to come rescue me, already?_  
  
The pause was longer than usual, but the response was considerably shorter.  
  
_I think I've done that quite a few times already._  
  
"Not funny," I mumbled to myself and scrawled a reply.  
  
_You know what I mean. I'm serious. I want to hear you say it, in person. Do you love me or not?_   
  
I didn't know I could be that gutsy, but someone had to be. Snape acted all tough and such, but when it came down to it, he was just another shy man. In fact, Franco had something on him. At least Franco had the guts to tell me that he liked me, face to face.  
  
The reply came back twenty minutes later.  
  
_We can discuss it during the spring break._  
  
_Damn him_. 


	19. Three Little Words

Chapter 19  
  
I remember how tired I was of waiting, and yet he made me wait even longer. _How can anyone be so cruel?_ I thought. I didn't want to leave things with Snape hanging. He wouldn't tell me if he loved me or not.   
  
_What will happen if he says he doesn't? Will I simply die? Will I just shrivel up into a ball and stop existing? And what if he tells me he does?_ That prospect seemed even more frightening, as I wasn't exactly experienced in the love department.  
  
  
_Be cool. Act like you don't care,_ I chanted over and over in my head the day that Easter Break began. As everyone was eating breakfast I poked at my toast and shot brief glances up to the staff table. _Play hard to get. Don't make a fool of yourself._ Franco was talking to me, but I wasn't really listening. _If you get shot down, don't cry. Act like it's no big deal._  
  
_Psh. You'll never be able to do that,_ said that tiny voice in the back of my head.  
  
"...But really, are you sure you don't want to come stay with us?" Franco was talking.  
  
"Hm? Oh, no," I was tired of feeding Franco the same lame excuse over and over when I was sure he knew I was lying, but I said it again. "I really need to work on my Ancient Runes. I'm so behind, and I just don't have the resources back home."  
  
_You're such a pathetic liar._  
  
"I just feel bad that you'll be stuck in the library all week."  
  
"I'm fine, Franco. You don't want me to fail my N.E.W.T's do you?"  
  
"No, I guess not," he said slowly.  
  
"Well, then there you go!" I smiled as genuine a smile as I could muster. He smiled back, but I knew that he didn't entirely believe me. How kind it was of him not to make a big fuss.  
  
  
Later that morning I walked him to the door with almost the whole rest of the school who was taking the opportunity to visit their parents and friends back home.   
  
"Bye," I said to him and gave him a brief hug.  
  
"See you. Good luck on your _Ancient Runes_." He looked me straight in the eye, but I did not flinch.  
  
"Bye, Franco. Have fun," I said, ignoring him.  
  
"You too," he replied, and carried his luggage out the door.   
  
After seeing him off I went up to the library, just in case he came back and checked if I was actually there. I stayed there for a few hours, trying to read, but really just staring at the same page without reading the words. After I was sure the coast was clear, I slowly made my way to the dungeons. My hands felt cold and clammy. My heart was pounding in my chest so loudly that I thought it would wake the dead. I almost tripped on a loose stone in the floor and laughed nervously. It echoed down the hallway.   
  
_Remember, be cool! Be calm!_  
  
"Be cool. Be calm," I whispered over and over. "Be cool, be calm."   
  
I was turning the corner right when someone else was coming the other way, and we almost collided.   
  
"Sorry," I mumbled. "This always happens to me here." I attempted to go around, but the person blocked me.  
  
"Meta."   
  
I looked up. Snape was standing in front of me. His face was apprehensive, perhaps even a bit sad.   
  
_He's going to tell me that he doesn't love me. He's going to tell me to go away..._  
  
"Prof--"  
  
"Meta, it's Franco."  
  
"What?" I didn't understand what he was trying to say. What did Franco have to do with us?  
  
"Meta, I'm sorry."  
  
_Oh, here it comes. 'Meta, I don't love you.' It's coming,_ I thought. But that is not what he said.  
  
"Meta, Franco is dead." 


	20. Feather Lips

Chapter 20  
  
  
"What?"  
  
"He's gone, Meta," Snape said softly and reached out to touch my arm, but I backed away.  
  
"This isn't funny," I said angrily.  
  
"I'm not trying to be."   
  
"I saw him earlier today. I saw him a few hours ago!" My yells echoed through the corridor.  
  
"His family was in a car accident going home from the train station."  
  
"Shut up," I said quietly. I wished I could close up my ears to block out all of the lies, but he kept on talking.  
  
"I'm sorry Meta--"  
  
"Shut up! SHUT UP!" I shrieked. I was so angry, so very angry. _Why is he lying to me? Doesn't he see that I don't think it's funny? It's not funny at all!_  
  
"Meta, please! Calm down!" He grabbed my arms and tried to pin them to my sides but I wriggled free. "He's gone, Meta. He's dead."  
  
"Stop lying!" I pounded on his chest with my fists. I wanted to hurt him for saying such horrible things.  
  
"It's not true! It's not!" I closed my eyes and flailed my arms at him. I hit him as hard as could but he never said a word. He just stood there and let me smack him until I became exhausted. Suddenly I felt very weak. Finally the tears came rushing down my cheeks, springing out of my eyes with the realization of the bitter truth. I felt his arms pull me in toward him.  
  
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. His hands stroked my hair and I backed away again, afraid that someone would see us. I looked up into his face. There was not a trace of anger or disgust in his eyes. His mouth was relaxed, not pinched. He was sincere, wholly and completely sincere. "I'm sorry Meta," he said again.  
  
I closed my eyes. I could not look into his face anymore. It was too intense. The tears continued to trickle down my face, but before they reached my chin, Snape's long fingers gently brushed them away. He leaned down and kissed my forehead, then so softly he kissed each eyelid, swollen and sore from crying. His lips barely brushed my skin. It was as if they were feathers. He touched my cheek once more.  
  
"Come on, I'll take you up to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey will give you something to help you sleep."  
  
As he lead me up the stone staircases, his hand protectively hovering at my back, I remember how grateful I felt that he hadn't kissed me on the lips. It would not have been right.   
  



	21. The Mourning After

Chapter 21  
  
  
After bad things happen there is a brief and glorious moment when all is forgotten. I woke the next day feeling rested, peaceful, and blissfully unaware. For a few seconds I laid in the bed, wondering what I was doing in the hospital wing. Then the realization of what had happened all came rushing back. I suddenly remembered why my eyes felt so scratchy, why my head felt as though it was going to explode, and why I was in the hospital wing.  
  
_Franco is dead. Franco's mother is dead. Franco's father is dead. But mostly, Franco is dead. Poor, sweet Franco, who loved me no matter what, who was willing to wait for me to come to my senses is cold and dead and I will never see him again._  
  
I could not cry any more. It was worse than that. I felt a pain that I had never felt before. It was empty, gnawing feeling that I thought would never go away.   
  
"Miss Cockerham?" An unfamiliar voice came from behind the white curtains surrounding the bed. "Could I have a word?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Oh, good," Albus Dumbledore peeked his long, white beard into the small enclosure and pulled back the curtain. "I thought you might be sleeping still."  
  
I sat up and unconciously attempted to flatten my hair, but it was no use. Even though I was in my seventh year at Hogwarts I had never really spoken to the Headmaster. Of course there were a few words exchanged here and there. I was one of the few who stayed home during the holidays, so he had seen me at Christmas dinner and had spoken to me a few times, but I had never had the chance to get to know him, and vice versa.  
  
"So," Dumbledore said as he took a seat in a chair next to my bed. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Fine," I said roughly.  
  
"I'm sorry, that was an insensitive question for me to ask." His blue eyes sparkled and stared right into mine, but I did not feel uncomfortable as I often did with Snape.  
  
"No, it's all right," I said, finding my voice at last. "I think I will be okay." I said it to make him feel better.  
  
"I hope so. If you ever need to talk, I'm always here." His eyes smiled a warm but not overly sentimental smile.  
  
"Thank you." I tried to smile back, but the muscles in my face did not seem to want to. I only managed a slight upturn.  
  
Dumbledore nodded his head and gracefully pulled the curtain closed again.  
  
"Ah, Severus," I heard him say from the end of the room. "Good Afternoon."  
  
"Afternoon, Headmaster," said Snape's cool, silky voice.  
  
I pulled the curtain back just as Snape was reaching for it. He cleared his throat and sat down slowly in the chair that Dumbledore had been occupying a moment before.  
  
We both began to speak at the same time.  
  
"Pr-"  
  
"Me-"  
  
"Sorry," I said. "Go ahead."  
  
Snape cleared his throat again. _Is he nervous?_  
  
"I know this isn't the best time, but I have something to say that desperately needs to be said." He paused, and when I didn't reply he continued on. "I feel terrible about this entire situation, and I know you might not want to hear this..." Another moment of silence. "I hate myself."  
  
I looked up at him in shock, but he did not meet my eyes. He stood up quickly and almost knocked over the chair.  
  
"I have so much... self-loathing. I hate myself and so I take it out on others. I treat them badly. I treated Franco badly, I've treated you badly." He began to pace the floor. "I blamed it on my father, on Shue, on my mother, but really, it's all my fault." He turned his back to me. "I don't deserve you."  
  
"I know," I whispered, and he spun around, as if he had forgotten I was there. I took a deep breath, and let the words flow out. "but I don't care." 


	22. To Laugh Again

Chapter 22   
  
"I don't care what you think," I continued. "I know you think that you aren't worth anything. That is why you act the way you do. But I know the truth."  
  
"And what is the truth, Miss Cockerham?" He sat back down in the chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest as he often did.  
  
"The truth is that you are a good person--"  
  
He snorted.   
  
"I mean it," I said firmly and smacked my fists on the mattress in frustration. He seemed worried for a moment and uncrossed his arms, as if he was preparing to grab me, for fear that I might throw a fit. "Just listen, okay? Don't interrupt," I commanded, and Snape looked almost pleased that I was taking charge. "It doesn't bother me that you act so aloof and mean. I understand that that is how you gain respect from your students, but you already have _my_ respect."  
  
"Miss Cockerham, I think you sometimes forget that you also are a student of mine," he said slowly.  
  
"Oh!" I yelled. "So now you're going to give me the speech are you? The, 'I'm sorry but you're my pupil and I can't have anything to do with you' speech, right? That isn't fair! You can't just start something like this and then expect to turn it off like a switch!"  
  
"Miss Cockerham, please--"  
  
"It's Miss Cockerham again then? Not _Meta_?" I laughed bitterly. "Well, fine."  
  
There was a moment of silence while I silently fumed. Then he said,  
  
"Franco- he loved you, didn't he?"  
  
"Yes," I said. I was so surprised at the question that I forgot that I was angry. I looked down at the stiching on the white quilt and followed the little lines around and around.  
  
"And, did you love him?"  
  
"Yes. Of course--" My voice broke for a moment and I could feel my throat begin to tighten. "Of course I loved him," The tears were coming back again, just when I thought I would be all right. "I did love him, just not the way he wanted me to," By now the tears were streaming down my face again, like a healing wound reopened. "And he knew-- he knew that I loved someone else, and I'll never forgive myself for that."  
  
"It's not your fault," I heard Snape say, but I fumbled on.  
  
"Yes it is! I could have just asked him to stay here for the holiday and he would have in a flash. But no, I wanted him gone so that I could hide you from him," I was sobbing pathetically and I strained to get the words out between gasps. "I wanted him gone so that he wouldn't know that I was meeting you. How stupid is that? If I weren't so selfish he would still be alive! He was my best friend, and I turned him away. I turned him away like he was nothing."  
  
Snape was silent, but I felt his cold hand close around mine. After a moment or two he let go and left without saying a word.  
  
  
The first week after Franco's death was a strange haze. I can't remember much of it now. I think that I just walked around like a zombie, somehow managing to go to class, somehow managing to do my schoolwork, somehow managing to go to his funeral. After that, the days got steadily better. One day I would have a few minutes in a row when I wouldn't think about Franco, the next day it might be half an hour, and on and on, until I could go for days without thinking of his death. It is not as though I wanted to forget about him completely. I just wanted to block him out for a while until I could think about his face and smile. Often times I would hear a funny joke or have a story to tell, and I would think to myself, _I'll have to tell Franco about that later._ Then I would remember that I couldn't tell him anything anymore.   
  
A month after Franco's death I laughed, and felt immediately guilty for it. It seemed to come out of nowhere. Leila McHedgridge was running through a corridor, trying to get to Muggle Studies on time, when she ran into an invisible barrier constructed by Samuel Portsmouth, the class clown. She smacked into it with a very surprised look on her face, and then backed up and ran into it again. I saw it all, and a short laugh escaped my throat. It was the most wonderful thing to laugh again. It felt so good, but so wrong at the same time.   
  
_It is my fault that Franco isn't here to laugh with me..._  
  
If I couldn't even laugh without feeling guilty, I knew it would be a long time before I could even look at Snape again. 


	23. A Sort of Engagement

Chapter 23  
  
It was spring. Birds were singing, warm air was blowing up from the south, the lawns outside the castle were getting greener and greener by the minute. The general atmosphere outside seemed to be calling to us, but we did our best not to listen. We seventh years were frantically preparing for our NEWTs, the most important tests of our lives. In two weeks time I would be testing, and after that-- well, after that it would all be over.  
  
I sighed and looked around the dormitory.   
  
_This is where I have spent most of my life. This is my home, and I'm about to leave it for god only knows what._  
  
I closed the Ancient Runes book that I was attempting to study. It was no use trying to remember anything even remotely academic when nostalgia was taking over. I lied back on my bed and soaked in the silence. The dormitory had come to be the only place where I could concentrate. Even the Library had a quiet buzz of frantic energy that suffocated me and drove me crazy. I stared at the ceiling for a while, then reached under my bed and pulled out a small wooden box.  
  
Like every silly schoolgirl, I kept the mementos in a box under my bed. There, was everything that had made up my life for the past two years: the handkerchief, the pearl ring, and the handful of notes that I had received during our brief "romance." I thought of it in the past because I had decided that I was tired of the "he loves me, he loves me not," inconsistency. I still loved him, but I made up my mind that I would go on with my life and remain a lonely spinster woman forever. I find it funny now that I think of it that I had resigned myself to being a spinster at the age of eighteen.  
  
Impulsively, I picked up the box and went over to the fireplace. A few flames were crackling merrily in the hearth, attempting to warm the bitterly cold stone walls. I removed the pearl ring from the box and placed it on my bed.  
  
_That is Berthe's, not mine. I have no right to destroy it._  
  
The rest I took one by one from the box and threw into the fire. First, the handkerchief went up in flames. Next, the first letter I received from Snape, then the next, and the next, and so on until every scrap was gone. Every scrap, except for the ring. I placed that on my finger for safekeeping and went to bed.  
  
  
I woke in the morning much later than usual and wondered in a very annoyed way why no one had bothered to wake me up.  
  
"Bloody hell," I muttered. "Bloody, bloody, bloody hell!" I pulled on some slightly mismatched socks and swept my dark hair back in a very sloppy ponytail. I changed into my school uniform quickly, hastily slipped on my ugly school loafers, and threw my rumpled wizard robes over my head as I ran out the door.  
  
My first class that day was—oddly enough—Potions, which I still hated, but for a different reason than last year. The year before, before the whole _situation_, I hated Potions because I hated Professor Snape.  
  
_Now,_ I thought matter-of-factly, _I hate Potions because I love Professor Snape. How stupid._   
  
My stomach growled ferociously, but there was no time to eat. If I was late to Potions… No matter what Professor Snape felt for me, he despised tardiness above all. I dashed down a corridor and almost knocked over Snarona Collins, who was going the other way.  
  
"Oh, Meta," she said as I mumbled a quick apology. "We thought we'd let you sleep!" She called out.  
  
"Yes, thanks a lot!" I called back to her sarcastically. I was definitely tired of everyone making concessions for me. I could just imagine what Sharona was thinking.  
  
_"That poor girl. First her mother dies, then her father, then her best friend, and now she's going to be late to Potions. Oh, and her hair is looking dreadful today…"_  
  
"Shut up, Sharona," I said to the snobby apparition I had conjured in my mind. "At least my hair doesn't look like a collie is sitting on my head."  
  
I dashed sown the last flight of stairs, turned the corner, and was extremely relieved to see that the class had just begun to file into the room. I caught up with the rest of them and breathlessly took my seat at the table where Franco and I sat. The empty chair was yet another heart-wrenching reminder.  
  
Snape made a dramatic entrance from his office with his sweeping robes and sour expression, but I knew it was just that-- drama.   
  
_He puts on a good play for the kiddies. And I used to be one of his audience too, once upon a time._  
  
Now, I know that not all of it was an act. He really did hate most of them, or at least intensely disliked them, but not as much as he made them believe.  
  
"Today," he began in his lowest tone, "we will review a potion that you should have mastered during your fifth year…"  
  
My knack for zoning out on all of the unimportant things kicked in, and I soon began to let my mind wander.  
  
"…addle-brains have forgotten…"   
  
I began to recall the events the last year, how it had all come to be. _It was that "D" he gave me on the report. I really should discuss that with him… no, bad idea. Just think, if I hadn't stormed into the classroom and gotten a detention, I wouldn't have found the diary, and if I hadn't found the diary…_  
  
"…should be simple, a mountain troll could do it…"  
  
_I remember that day in detention when he told me the diary was his mother's. His face… It was a look I had never seen before. I think that was the very moment when I knew I could love him._  
  
"…ingredients are on the table, begin."  
  
It seemed that I wasn't as good at daydreaming during class as I thought I was. Snape was expecting us to complete a potion from memory and I didn't even listen to him say what potion it was. I looked around nervously as the class went up to the front row by row and picked out their needed ingredients. Snape was passing back our papers from last week. He came up to the paper and nonchalantly tossed the paper on to the desk, then leaned down towards me.  
  
"The Vomir Potion, Miss Cockerham. Please pay attention in the future," he said, barely above a whisper, but without an ounce of a sneer.  
  
"Yes, sir," I squeaked back. I felt such an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for the man at that moment that I had to restrain myself from kissing him on the lips.  
  
He was straightening up and about to walk away when he noticed the white glint on my finger. He froze. I had forgotten to take the pearl ring off that morning because I was in such a hurry. It was on the left ring finger, no less, as if I was trying to say that I intended to marry him.  
  
His black eyes looked up from my hand and into mine. It was as if they were pleading, searching, begging for me to tell him some secret.  
  
_There is nothing to tell! I told you I loved you already, it is your turn now._  
  
Our gaze was locked for a few seconds before he broke it to berate some poor Hufflepuff, but I found myself watching him the whole rest of the class period. My Vomir Potion was less than satisfactory, but he did not seem to notice or care.   
  
_I'm wearing the ring by accident, but he doesn't know that. Does he think I'm wearing it again because I want something from him? And what if I do?_  
  
It was maddening not to be able to know what he was thinking. 


	24. The Sun Sets

Chapter 24  
  
  
I walked around the dormitory several times, savoring the moment, the smell of leather and wood, the way the light came in the window by my bed and made that curious shape on the floor. All of it, however small it had seemed before, seemed enormous at that moment.  
  
In my hands I held a letter from the Ministry of Magic. It was well worn from being read over and over again. I had to take it out before bed every night just to be sure that it really did exist.  
  
_Miss Meta Cockerham:  
  
Thank you for your interest in the Ministry of Magic, especially in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.  
  
We have been informed of your intelligence, talent, and promising future. Because of these many important qualities, you have been chosen to fill the position of assistant under myself, which may lead to a permanent position in our department.  
  
Please give your reply within two weeks so that we may prepare for your arrival. We are anticipating your employment with us!  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Amygdala H. Bancroft   
Head  
Department of Magical Law Enforcement_  
  
It had all been Snape's doing, of course. I knew that. He said that he would help me all those months before, I just couldn't imagine that he would actually remember. I knew how coveted those assistant jobs with Department heads were. They almost always ended up with a very good permanent position within a year. I hadn't even spoken to Snape; I simply got the letter one day during breakfast and sent out my reply later that night.  
  
I sighed again and folded the letter back up and placed it in my trunk, along with the other letter, which scheduled a meeting for me with Amygdala Bancroft the day after graduation.  
  
_And graduation is only two days away…_  
  
I put on a sweater and crept silently past the warm and cheery common room where almost every member of the Ravenclaw house was, talking and laughing and celebrating their soon to be independence. Most of them were younger and would be going home to their parents and returning to Hogwarts for at least another year. The other seventh years would be going on to more schooling or jobs or backpacking trips. All of them looked blissfully happy and I felt unwelcome, like a strange peering in on someone else's Christmas dinner.  
  
I was suddenly filled with a strange sort of sadness. It was not the kind that can be healed by a good cry, nor was it like the hollow grief I still felt for Franco. Instead, it was a persistent gnawing or a shadow looming over my shoulder, a dark, sarcastic shadow with a hooked nose.   
  
I closed the portrait behind me and drowned out the noise of the rest of them. Somehow their joy only irritated me instead of lifting my spirits, and I wanted to get away from it. I had taken to walking in the evenings in those last weeks at school. I walked around the grounds in the same way each night. First I went past the lake, then along the edge of the dark trees, and lastly I would rest for a few moments on the grass in a quiet part of the grounds and watch the sun set. That night I walked the same path as I always took, and as always was deep in thought. I sat down on the damp grass and looked back at the castle. It seemed so huge, yet so alive. From there the yellow lights twinkled from the windows like hundreds of little eyes watching me. Hogwarts seemed to be telling me in a gentle, motherly way, that it was time to go, and that I must grow up and move on.  
  
"I'm grown up already."   
  
I turned back toward the horizon and watched the sky turn from blue to gray to yellow to orange to red. I never had really been one for sunsets, and I am not now, but during those walks they were always so beautiful that I could not turn away until the very last bit of light was swallowed up by the earth. I was concentrating on the silence so hard that I didn't hear him coming until he was standing next to me.  
  
"Miss Cockerham," Snape's cool voice cut through the air and brought me abruptly back to reality. "It is getting late. You would not want to be caught out past curfew."   
  
He held out a slender, white hand and I timidly took it. He helped me up to my feet. My hand lingered on hiss for a few seconds too long, but I felt that I couldn't let go. I knew what I had to do and I didn't want to do it.  
  
"Professor," I said, as our hands parted and I brushed the grass off of my legs.   
  
"Yes, Miss Cockerham," he said. It was getting dark and I couldn't see his face.  
  
"I think you should have this back." I slipped the pearl ring off my finger where it had remained ever since the day I had burned all of the letters. I didn't want to lose it. He held out his hand and took it. There was silence for a moment, and then he said,  
  
"It was meant as a gift."  
  
I swallowed hard, trying to force down the lump in my throat. "I don't think it is a gift I should accept." I was glad that it was dark so he couldn't see the tears running down my cheeks.  
  
I saw him put the ring in a pocket in his robes, but I still could not see his face. I wanted to know what he was feeling. I could almost feel if I looked into his eyes. Sometimes I could see the storm clouding them. But it was dark, and I could only make out the outline of his white face and hands. I would have lit my wand, but my eyes were still crying. They seemed to have a mind of their own. I didn't tell them to cry, and yet the tears would not stop flowing.  
  
"After this week, I don't suppose I'll ever see you again," I said as calmly as I could.  
  
"No," he replied, equally calm. "I don't suppose you will."  
  
"Goodbye," I said.  
  
"Goodbye," he replied.  
  
_So, that is that_ I thought, as I began to walk toward the castle. _Nothing tragic. Nothing messy. A nice, clean break.  
  
Except it is not nice at all, and I feel filthy._  
  
Still, I kept walking, as quietly as I could with hardly any light. I did not look back. I did not want to see his dark figure silhouetted against the last dying rays. I had to keep walking.   
  
I took another step, and then another, and then, I stopped. I don't know why I stopped. My brain said, "keep moving," but my feet would not oblige. It did not feel right. I could not leave. I slowly turned around and walked back to him. He was facing me, but he was completely still.   
  
"I lied a minute ago," I said shakily, the tears still running furiously down my face.  
  
"I know," he said in his silky voice.  
  
"I lied about both things," I sobbed. "I lied about the ring. I _do_ want it. And I lied about this being the last time I see you.  
I do know I'll see you again."  
  
"I know," he repeated.  
  
"You're always so cool! Don't you ever feel?"  
  
He didn't reply, but like that night when Franco died, he reached toward my face and wiped the tears away with his thumbs.  
  
"Yes," he finally said. He lifted my face with his hands. He took one hand off my cheek and combed his fingers through my hair. "Yes," he whispered again, and ran his finger gently under my chin. I couldn't breathe. His touch sent shivers down my spine and I felt both afraid and excited at the same time. My hand found its way to his pocket, and I reached in and pulled out the ring.   
  
"I'm taking this back," I said breathlessly.  
  
He let out a soft chuckle and removed his hand from my chin and took the ring out of my hand. He slipped it back on my finger.  
  
"Now, stop lying," he gently scolded.  
  
"I will," I was about to say, but before I could get the words out, he placed a slender finger on my lips. I closed my eyes and he leaned down and gently kissed my forehead, then my cheek, and then the tip of my nose. His lips lingered over mine. I could feel his breath on my face. Finally, his mouth kissed mine, so gently, almost timidly. He kissed me again, more passionately. The years of frustration, desire, anger, love, hate, were all culminating at that moment.   
  
"I love you," I whispered.  
  
He wrapped his arms around me and held me for a very long time. 


End file.
